Come Around
by The Teenage Angst Brigade
Summary: A white dress. A candlelit aisle, and flowers everywhere. There are tears in everyone's eyes. WHY? (AT LAST, IT'S OVER!) [10b10b]
1. Tuscany and Blue

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer:_ Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling. No infringement intended.  
_Author's Note:_ Bored. Very bored. Very very bored. Very very very bored. Very very very very bored. Very very very very very bored. So bored that I'd keep going till there are twenty very's there, but I felt sorry for you people who might actually want to read this. Also, I am just trying to irritate you. Behold my success. Now, on a less bored note, let me just say that this fic was inspired by a Rhett Miller song, _Come Around_. I will post the lyrics at the end. If I ever finish. Maybe then it'll have some meaning to you. I am a slasher, but this is straight because I want it to be. **EDIT:** 1/4/03 -- added a bit. Thought it was too short.

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He was precisely the wrong kind of person to go backpacking. Yes, he was absolutely wrong and absolutely dumb for doing this. He could hardly find his room at the Manor in the dark without the help of some terrified little house elf. He couldn't cook. He never _really_ did anything for himself. Yes, it was the wrong thing to do. He should go back home, apologise to his father, and get back to living the pompous and proper life that suited a nineteen-year-old Malfoy heir. What was the reason he went backpacking, anyway? Why had he fought with his father? What compelled him to abandon everything he had valued, the money, power, comfort, and magic? Yeah, he'd ditched the wand back at Malfoy Manor, too. If he'd had it with him, he'd be so reliant on it to get him through the day, and that would completely defeat the point of this little trip. If it could be called _little_. So why _had_ he done so, he wondered to himself, walking up a beautiful, old street in Tuscany, heaving an enormous bag full of belongings he just couldn't live—or leave—without, not to mention wearing ridiculously simple-looking Muggle clothes. He _did_ have some Muggle money, he reminded himself.

Then again, what was a Malfoy without a bit of cash? He grinned. Not that it was a bit. He'd pulled some (_some_ in his language meaning _a hell of a lot_ to most other people) of his money out of his Gringotts account and got himself a Visa. He smiled to himself. You could take the boy away from the Malfoys, yeah, but you sure couldn't take the Malfoy away from the boy.

_So what if I'm a bit materialistic and I've got enough sense to worry about getting run over by some insane Italian Muggle in a sports car?_ he mused, spotting a bench near a fountain. He dropped his pack onto the seat and dumped himself exhaustedly into the chair. It was true, though. Italian Muggles drove at breakneck speed. He was quite afraid to cross the street. Had he his wand, he could have _Impedimenta-_d and _Avada Kedavra_-d all the ignorant, non-magic folk. Their own bloody fault. But he _didn't_ have his wand.

So why had he gone on this 'ridiculously selfish little field trip' (his father's words, not his) around Europe by himself? Heck, he didn't want to have to be confined to backpacking around _Europe_. He had his Visa, he could go to America or Asia if he bloody wanted. Which, at the moment, he didn't, but eventually, he might.

_You're eluding the inevitable topic again, Draco,_ he scolded himself, smiling a bit. Why had he decided to drop everything and go backpacking? _To find myself._ Find himself? But he knew exactly where he was. He had a life, he had a family, he had a fortune, he had a future. _Family?_ he wondered, smirking a bit, _yeah, if you could call it that._ Could he call it that? Were the Malfoys, his parents, family to him? Sure, they paid for food, school, bought him pretty much everything he'd ever wanted. But he'd never felt any affection from them, and to Draco, that was what a family should have been all about. _Nope, no family._ He hadn't put friends on the list, either, for obvious reasons.

Why had he gone on this trip? He knew the answer. He knew the bloody answer, but he couldn't bear to say it, or even think about it. He wanted to escape. This trip was an escape from everything he knew, everything he had known.

It was an escape from her. Draco sighed, exasperatedly. He'd said it. It was out. He could now approach this tender subject and try to get it out of his system. Yeah.

But he couldn't even say her name to himself. _You can try, Malfoy, you prat._

Cho.

Cho Chang.

Cho--insert expletive here--Chang. He had many expletives he could use to fill the space. Draco smirked as he ran a hand (almost tanned! The Italian sun was doing wonders!) through his silver hair. He was a creative boy. Not to mention the fact that he'd grown up hearing countless expletives in many languages. He could manage. Draco grinned. He was _very_ good with putting nasty images in other people's heads, too. This, he found, was not always such a beneficial talent. Sometimes, people found it amusing, sometimes, people thought it was disgusting and that he was a very horribly twisted child.

"You're drifting from the subject again, Draco," he whispered. A middle-aged Italian woman walked past him just as he said this. She glanced at him strangely, like she thought he was insane or had herpes (or something similar). "The first symptom of insanity is holding conversations with yourself, Malfoy," he thought, amused. He fought the urge to say this out loud, however, for fear that the poor lady would trip while running as far from him as possible, carrying what must have been fifteen pounds of groceries.

Back to the subject. Cho. Draco paused for a moment, and cleared his head. For a bit of effect, he looked up at the sky, too. Not a bloody cloud in sight. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, the birds were singing. The world was perfect. So why couldn't this perfection rub off on him? If everyone else could be so bloody happy, why couldn't he?

Cho Chang. What had she meant to him? What had she done to--done for--him that changed him in such a great way? That made him curse her inwardly every time he thought of her long, raven hair, her brown almond eyes, and her perfect smile? Why was he so _affected_? He had been hurt in the past and he hadn't cared. Malfoys never cared. Malfoys felt the pain and learned from it. Malfoys didn't flinch (most of the time, at least). Why did he care?

He thought it silly, asking himself questions that he knew the answers to, and yet, denying these answers. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Cho taught him what it was like to be loved. She taught him how to love. She gave him a life, something he never realised he hadn't had before. She'd made him a real person, one who had feelings. In one cold, insensitive, unfeeling, heartless (oh, he could just go on about this) sentence, she took all of this back. Everything she had given him. And everything that she had given him had been his only reason for living now.

_I'm sorry, Draco. This was all just a bet that I took too far,_ she'd said, with a bit of smile, in her sparkling Yule Ball gown. She refused to meet his eyes. Hell, if she had, he wouldn't have wanted to look into them, anyway. He didn't want her to see the effect her words had on him. He didn't want to see her. Instead, he stared at her glittering white dress. They'd picked this dress out together at the boutique at Hogsmeade. Satin, silk, and lace, with a beaded bodice. It was exquisite, a one-of-a-kind dress that was _made_ for Cho Chang. It fit her perfectly, curved, fell, clung, and swayed in all the right places. It was beautiful, but it didn't take any beauty away from Cho's features, only enhanced them. It was ridiculously expensive, but he'd insisted on paying for it, anyway. She tried to refuse, insisting that there must be another nice dress that would suit her, but he persisted. She thanked him profusely, her eyes gleaming with happiness. "Consider it your Christmas present," he'd said, taking the opportunity to give her what he thought was a suave, dashing, debonair smile. She knew what he was up to, however, and hit him over the head with her purse. "Silly!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "Thanks," she added, taking his hand as she dragged him into the men's department. Draco had tried to tell her that he had countless dress robes in his wardrobe already--he didn't need another--but she wouldn't hear of it. "I have to return the favour, don't I?" she joked, flashing him that special smile, the one that (he liked to think) belonged to him. He surely hadn't seen her using it on anyone _else._ "Now, let's go!" she proclaimed, pulling him along behind her, the both of them laughing.

She pulled out a gorgeous, dark blue dress robe for him, and he had laughed. He shook his head. Not blue. It should be green. The Slytherins would think he was a bloody turncoat. Cho handed him the robe, nevertheless, and he put it on. "It _does_ look good on me," he remarked coolly. "Then again, doesn't everything?" he added. She threw his clothes at him. "Arrogant prat!" she laughed, her eyes sparkling. They'd played this game before. Draco knew that as much as she might say otherwise, she _did _think he was pretty good-looking, and this did wonders for his ego. He went back into the dressing room and changed back into his own clothes, and when he emerged with the blue robe, Cho took it from him. They had sat there for a few moments, just staring at each other. They both broke into beaming smiles, and raced each other to the counter, paying for each other's garment (though Cho's was obviously the more extravagant). _This was all just a bet that I took too far. _She'd turned away from him then, and walked over to where her date for the night had been waiting. It didn't matter to him, he hadn't been looking at her. Nothing had mattered to him anymore, ever again.

He went back to the Slytherin and pulled his blue dress robe over his head, ripping it to shreds with his own hands. He felt satisfaction with every tearing noise. He felt the anger as the fabric burned and cut into his skin. He threw it into the fire, and with the fragments of expensive fabric went everything he ever believed in.

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_Author's Note:_ I'm bored. I don't know if I'll continue this. I can keep hoping. :D It's interesting enough, to me, at least. But there are only two pairings involving Draco that I approve of: Draco/Harry, and Draco/**_ME_**. What have you?


	2. Roses and Jasmine

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer:_ Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling. Draco Malfoy, however much I'd like him to belong to _me,_ ALSO belongs to JK Rowling. *sigh* No infringement intended.  
_Author's Note:_ I am back to write the _strangest_ pairing I have ever attempted. Thanks for the kind remarks! I didn't know Draco/Cho fans actually _existed._ Apparently there are some, though at present, I do not count myself among them. I'm going to drag Draco all over the world (I'm doing my research already!), glad you guys are along for the trip. *evil grin* Review or die. **EDIT:** Oh, GOD, edited to correct some horrible grammatical errors. Am expecting a few more, and some spelling mistakes, too, due to the fact that this entire thing was written in Dreamweaver. Dreamweaver does NOT have a spellchecker, much less a grammar checker. I would have liked it to have a 'really lame, crappy, and pathetic' checker, too, but no luck there. While I'm correcting, I added a few, irrelevant things.

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According to the paperback guidebook he held in his hands, there was a certain spot in Tuscany (he couldn't spell the name, what more pronounce it?) that was absolutely _beautiful_ during the sunrise. Draco made a face at the book as he walked aimlessly through the streets. He wondered quizzically if that meant that the particular spot in the middle of nowhere wasn't pretty at _any _other time _except_ the morning, but this was irrelevant, he reasoned. Now, all he had to do was to catch the bus and drag himself off to Val d'Orcia. Draco considered it pointless to be backpacking around the spellbinding places of the world without bothering to even _look_ at the bloody flowers. And there were flowers _everywhere_, thankfully. He didn't mean this literally, of course, but the flowers in Italy were an art. Camellias growing in the parks, vines and violet flowers growing on old, yellowed walls. Draco had come to love Italian architecture, from the Gothic churches to the smallest houses. A thought crossed his mind. He grinned naughtily. Italian women weren't that bad, either. No, not bad at all...

He was still lugging the backpack around, and had been so desperate to feel less hot that he'd resorted to wearing _shorts._ God, the shame! Khaki shorts, indeed! He'd bought a few things while on his trip, clothes he never thought he'd wear, books he never thought he'd read. But he read the books and he wore the shirts. In fact, he was quite proud of the one he was wearing now. It had _Fugazi_ on the front. He was only vaguely aware, however, that this was a Muggle rock band, due to the approving stares a teenaged Italian girl gave him as he strode past her, sitting on a wall. It could have been because of his more-than-passable looks, of course, but you couldn't exactly miss all the kohl eyeliner she had on. It made her look like a bloody _raccoon_. Besides, she had a Fugazi sticker on her guitar case. Nah, it was definitely the looks.

_Bus stop, where's the bus stop?_ he thought impatiently, tapping a foot on the cobblestone path. This picturesque view was the last thing he planned on seeing in Italy before he moved on to Barcelona, in Spain. He was also considering ditching Barcelona and flying to Switzerland, but he wanted to see a real bullfight and a football game. He'd already been to Roma, was currently in Florence (also called Firenze, apparently), he'd passed by France and nearly went crazy shopping for designer clothing in Milan and artwork in Paris (he had everything delivered to Malfoy Manor via Owl Post. There were, as he discovered, witches and wizards all over Europe). He squinted, spotting what looked like a stick with a small, flat square on top of it. Must have been the bus stop, he figured, as he picked up his pace. There were a few people standing there already, some carrying duffel bags, others, with barely any luggage. He stood next to a boy about a year or two younger than himself, with dark hair, brown eyes, and trademark Italian olive skin. "Scusilo, is this the bus stop?" Draco asked him, in his unsteady Italian. Having spent most of his nights reading through a phrasebook, he knew a bit of basic vocabulary.

"Sì, alla Val d'Orcia in San Quirico," he replied. Draco didn't bother trying to translate. He'd heard the words Val d'Orcia and San Quirico, and that was where he wanted to go. "È quello questo posto nella guida di corsa?" (Is that the place in this travel guide?) Draco queried, wishing to confirm what he thought. The boy seemed somewhat exasperated, brushing his unruly hair out of his face. "Sì."

"Grazie," Draco replied, offering the relieved Italian a smile. He looked away, at the other people planning to visit San Quirico. The bus rounded the corner, large and barely tinted. Draco dug his hand into his pocket and shelled out the sufficient amount of lira necessary for a ticket, boarded the bus, and sat near the back. He dumped his pack in the seat next to him, so that no one would disturb him. Propping his feet (in the most comfortable Nikes he owned) up on his bag, he pulled his Discman out of the side pocket and turned the volume all the way up.

Introspection time. 

Having grown up with people who never really cared, he'd grown accustomed to releasing everything he felt through music and, at times, art. Rock music was, strangely enough, the best therapy he'd ever come across. Most people dismissed this genre, calling it noise, but these were the people who had never felt any of the emotions in the songs, and therefore, could not connect with the music.

It was a CD Cho had given him. Much as he hated her, he couldn't part with the album he was listening to. She bought it for him because the third track dealt with anorexia, which he'd had when she first got to know him. "Listen to _Ana's Song_ and _Emotion Sickness,"_ she said. "They always remind me of you." The words and the melody were haunting, and Daniel Johns' voice was at its most expressive. Draco leaned against the window as he reminisced. The view was getting monotonous, anyway. Fields, trees, cows, trees, cows, fields, cows, fields, sheep, trees, goats, cows, trees.

Having been frustrated with the lack of control in his life, he decided to take control of something only _he _could take over: his body. Draco let a sad smile pass over his lips as he looked at himself in the window. He was still lean, but he was looking considerably better. Sometimes, he wished he could look directly into his own eyes, and figure out what he saw there. Figure himself out. Mirrors only reflected them, it took the essence away. His illness had destroyed his spirit even more, but every day, he grew happier. He starved himself, and at times, he wouldn't sleep. When it seemed like he couldn't feel anything anymore, he escaped to a dark, little-explored room on the third floor of the castle and wounded himself. Pain was the only thing he could feel back then. He thought he wouldn't be disturbed, he'd locked the door, but there had been somebody else there that night.

"_Alohomora,_" someone whispered outside the door. He ducked into a closet and shut the door as far as it would go, hearing the footsteps drawing ever nearer. "Strange," a voice said. "This door is never locked when I'm here." Draco could make out the noise of the window being pushed open. A chilly draft blew into the room, and moonlight spilled through the crack in the closet. He peered, squinted, and focused, but couldn't see who was seated on the windowsill, legs dangling over the side. There had been nobody else in the room with the mysterious stranger.

The moonlight shone on the floor, turning the blood a glittering silver. The person--a girl, he deduced--turned around and stared at the stone. "Wh--what's this?" she murmured, hopping off the windowsill, streams of luminescence illuminating her back and her long, ebony hair. She walked slowly, tentatively, and knelt by the small pool of blood. She stared at it a while, trying to see if it was a deadly potion of some sort, and then dipped her fingers into the liquid. She held her other hand to her mouth as she gasped, her head snapping to follow the trail of droplets that Draco had left. _Oh, crap._

Her figure drew ever closer. _Don't open the door, don't open the door, don't open the door, _he prayed fervently. It didn't work. The moonrays blinded him temporarily as the doors swung open. He tried to block his eyes with his hands. Bad move. The blood was now dripping freely onto the closet floor. "Oh, crap," he muttered, cringing.

"Malfoy?" the voice said incredulously. "_Draco_ Malfoy?"

"Are there any _other_ Malfoys at Hogwarts?" he replied scathingly. "Last time _I_ checked, I was my parents' _only_ child, and I plan to keep it that way, thanks." The offending Hogwarts student held his arm as gently as she could and pulled him out of the closet. "What have you done?" she exlaimed, surveying his bloody wrists worriedly. "What the bloody hell have you done? I have to get you to the infirmary!" His eyes cleared enough to see her face.

"No, you're not taking me _anywhere,_ Chang. I can take care of myself!" he hissed, pulling his arm away and trying not to wince. He stepped away from her, his back to the window. He tried not to move his arms, but he couldn't help it. Any small movements stung, and his wounds were still bleeding. He tried his best not to wince. His best wasn't good enough. "You're in pain!" she gasped, tenderly placing a hand on his arm, being careful not to touch the wounds. "We have to go to Madam Pomfrey, you've lost so much blood. You could _die._" She said this as if she _cared._ Draco laughed scornfully. "Come _on, _Draco!" she pleaded, her face contorting with worry and concern.

Draco sneered cruelly at her, shoving her away from him. "Don't call me Draco. You never have, and you _shouldn't._ And what do _you_ care? You're a Ravenclaw. You're like the rest of this godforsaken school, you _all_ hate me. You should be _happy_ to see me die. Get away from me," he snapped, grabbing his wand and pushing the doorway open. He poised to leave, and didn't want to hear her say anything else.

"I'm never happy to see anyone hurting," she whispered softly.

"Oh?" Draco asked sarcastically, turning around. "And why is that?"

Cho looked up and glared at him, her dark brown irises meeting his silver ones angrily. "No decent human being would like to see anyone else in pain. Are _you_ happy when people get hurt?" she asked him pointedly in return, crossing her arms across her chest. She paused a moment, pretended to think, and smiled coldly at him. "Then again, you're a _Malfoy_," she spat, saying the name like a curse. "You're _not_ decent and you're not _human_. _None_ of you are," she added darkly, her eyes clouding over. Draco's silver eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, a growl burning in his throat.

It stung almost as badly as his wounds. "You're a hypocrite, Cho Chang," he shot at her. "You're a _hypocrite_." He clenched his fists and gave her the meanest look he could muster while still managing to remain standing. His breathing grew heavy, but he had to avenge himself. "You're a hypocrite. You're stereotypical, you're judgmental, and you don't even _know_ me. You've _no_ _right _to be telling me what I am. You know what _you _are?" he asked her, barely able to keep from shouting. His eyes boiled with fury.

Cho gave him a look. _Tell me, _ it said, challenging him. He'd _tell_ her, alright.

"You're _perfect,_ that's what you are. Everybody _loves _you. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, teachers, hell, even some _Slytherins_. You're popular, everyone knows you, everyone likes you, everyone's falling all over you like you're some bloody _celebrity._ You have never felt _real_ pain in your whole bloody _life. _Pain to you must be breaking a_ nail _or getting hit by a Bludger in Quidditch, banging into a table, maybe. That's just simple physical pain. You've never felt the pain inside yourself, the pain that _never_ heals. The pain that won't go away, no matter how many daquiris or Mai Tais you down, no matter how many antidepressants you take. The pain that _never _goes away. And then the emptiness follows it. The lifelessness, the void of existence. When you finally _want_ to feel, but can't. When nothing else works but the physical pain. The lack of control, the complete lack of control. I'm a puppet, Cho Chang. I'm a bloody _puppet,_ I've never been allowed to be who I am, to do what I want, to say what I want. I've been frightened all my life, and I'm so scared that I can't even _think_ what I want anymore. You have _no right_ to be telling me what I am. I _know_ what I am. I know what I've become. If you knew what I _went_ through as a child, what I go through now and what I will be going through for the rest of my _life, _you wouldn't be surprised at the way I am. You've been _loved._ I don't know what love is _like._ I have never been cared for in my whole life, I have _never_ felt like I belonged, no one has _ever_ made an effort to understand me. 'Oh, he's a _Malfoy,_ they're a bad lot, don't associate with him!' Do they ever _try?_ Did _you _ try?" he paused, taking a deep breath. Deep breaths didn't work, it wasn't enough. He was getting tired, and she could see it. He leaned against the wall. Let her see his weakness, let's see if she cared.

"You didn't," he said harshly. "You didn't try. You _never_ tried to understand, and I can't blame you. Nobody understands, nobody cares. If I wasn't bleeding to death, you wouldn't have given me a second _look._"

Cho stood there, shocked and silent, not seeming to notice that there were tears streaming down her cheeks. Time passed by so slowly as they stood there, not looking at each other. Draco could feel it in the air. It was guilt.

"The colour's draining out of your face, Draco," she said softly, not bothering to argue with him. She was defeated. "I have to take you to the infirmary before anything bad happens to you. I don't want to see you hurting anymore." Draco closed his eyes and breathed. His heart was pumping furiously, his lungs were aching, and his head was spinning. He couldn't walk anymore, his feet were faltering. The blood was pooling at his feet.

"_Morbilicorpus_," Cho whispered. He felt himself floating in midair before the darkness claimed him.

He had opened his eyes the next day in the Hospital Wing, wearing the ridiculous Hogwarts pajamas. There were rose petals and jasmine flowers by his pillow, and a small note.

_Draco,_  
_No one knows what happened last night. _  
_I won't tell anyone._  


_I'm sorry._  
_--C_

Madam Pomfrey, having noticed his state of consciousness, quickly bustled over to check on him. "What a horrible accident you must have suffered, Mr. Malfoy! Imagine, a suit of armor falling on you! If its saber had landed on your neck, you would have died! It's a good thing Ms. Chang happened to find you before it was too late!" she exclaimed, looking at his wrists and giving him a pitying glance. "In any case, I will be keeping you here for the next two days to make sure you're better, until you regain your health and your strength." She gave him a pat on the head and went to fetch him a pitcher of water. He took a glass from her gratefully.

Draco sighed, and laid back on the soft pillow. Apparently, he was stuck here for the next few days. How boring could _that_ be?

"Oh, and Draco, dear, from your medical report, it seems you haven't been eating much lately. Your health has dropped and deteriorated. Is there something wrong? Are you showing signs of allergy to the food served at Hogwarts? If your eating habits keep up this way, there is a great possibility of malnourishment, and death. Your immune system is weakening," the nurse mentioned, placing a hand on his shoulder. Like she cared. Which she didn't.

Draco shook his head. "Nothing's wrong, Madam, I just haven't been hungry lately," he lied. Madam Pomfrey nodded. "That's fine, I'll bring you your lunch later on and make sure you're in perfect condition for your classes when you return."

He did nothing the whole time he was in the infirmary. No one visited him that day, or the next. No Slytherins, no Crabbe, no Goyle, no Cho Chang. It deepened his lack of faith in the human race. Nobody cared about him. Draco laughed bitterly, his gray eyes clouding with what must have been tears. Why was he surprised that nobody was there for him? Wasn't that the way it always was? Wasn't it the way he was brought up? To be alone, to fend for himself?

If he had been Harry Potter, there would be cards, flowers, and candy waiting for him. But there was nothing. Just the smell of roses and jasmine. He wasn't Harry Potter.

He never would be. 

Draco smiled faintly as he looked out the window. Still more trees, more fields, but less cows. They seemed to have been replaced with hills and beautiful villas, and through the open windows wafted the fresh air of the Italian province. He would have to spend the night at some inn, and then wake up before dawn to find the spot he was looking for. It didn't matter. He had all the time in the world.

San Quirico wasn't that far a drive, apparently. He was on the bus for three or four hours, and had spent most of the time remembering things he would rather have not remembered. He stretched languidly as the bus pulled to a stop. He shook the sleep off his legs and stood, grabbing his pack off the seat and hopping off the bus. "Grazie!" he called out to the bus driver, who offered him a nod and a smile.

Now, to find an inn.

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The house he was staying in was beyond beautiful, aside from being very quaint and comfortable. The roof was covered with glazed red tile, the walls were slightly yellowish, and vines with red flowers were crawling all over it. This place felt, strangely enough, like home. More homey than Malfoy Manor, at least. That place felt like an asylum. The room was cheap and it had everything he would need, two large mirrors, a closet, a queen-sized and _very _nice bed, and a bathroom with all the amenities. Draco didn't ask for much, really. The mirrors were the foremost requirement, however.

It was only five in the afternoon, but he decided to take a raincheck on dinner and go straight to bed. He did, after all, want to catch the sunrise, didn't he?

He threw himself onto the mattress, still in his shorts and Fugazi shirt, and easily dropped off to a dreamless sleep.

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Draco moaned a bit as he tried to drag himself out of bed. It was already four AM, he would have to get going soon to find Val d'Orcia. Oh, he _knew_ where it was, it was the actual _finding_ of it that was the problem. The landlady had told him, however, that Val d'Orcia was quite nearby, about fifteen minutes away by foot, less by bike. (Loosely translated, of course). He borrowed her son's bike, dressed himself in a comfortable shirt (Tool this time), a pair of jeans, and took his camera with him as he left. Almost everyone was still asleep. The cook was up, though, and offered him some coffee and breakfast, but he declined politely and went off on his way.

He couldn't exactly see anything in the darkness, but the street lights lit the way, and a few well-placed sign boards helped quite a lot. Soon enough, he found himself a comfortable position in the middle of a field, facing east, leaning against a camellia tree as he waited to meet the sun. A few delicate rays broke through the sky, turning black into dark blue. Slowly, but surely, the darkness was beaten back by the light. The whole of Italy seemed covered in a grayish mist.

Draco preferred sunrises to sunsets. Sunsets were said to be poetic, but sunrises were even more so. Sunrises were like birth anew, the breaking of the darkness was like hope and salvation to him.

He smirked, brushing his silver hair out of the way. He _was_ becoming more dramatic, wasn't he?

Draco closed his eyes and enveloped himself in the smell of flowers. Not that of camellia, but of roses and jasmine. Roses and jasmine had always been his favourites, and the smell took him back to the few times he'd been truly happy. Roses and jasmine had always seemed to herald the coming of something unexpected. What would they bring him this time, the red and the white?

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_Author's Note:_ Bored again. :D Am definitely continuing writing this. Am also editing a few other fics I took off FF.n. Hurrah for me. God, why am I _writing_ this pairing?I also do not know where the bloody hell San Quirico is in Tuscany. I have no bloody idea. I do not know how far Florence is from San Quirico, and thus, am making things up. San Quirico exists, though, I've seen gorgeous pictures of the landscape at sunrise. I _will_ go there someday. Review and inspire me to continue, willya?


	3. Silken Blue Dragons

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer:_ Much as I would wish it, Draco Malfoy, unfortunately, does not belong to me. He belongs to JK Rowling, along with Harry Potter, Cho Chang, and pretty much everyone else at Hogwarts. If JK would like to donate him to me, however, I would be very much obliged.  
_Author's Note:_ The Great One, yeah, that's Silverchair, I'm a real 'chairhead. :D I LOVE them! LOOOOOVE them! I'm just sad that Daniel is engaged to Natalie Imbruglia. He deserves better, but if she makes him happy, well, good. Glad to notice some useful comments in the reviews. I know I haven't built up much on Cho's character, but we must remember that this IS only chapter three, and if I don't get tired of travelling in Europe any sooner, we won't be seeing her for quite a while (I have _part_ of this planned, at least). I don't like her much, but I'm not trying to be mean. School has resumed, so my boredom is pretty much going away, albeit a bit slowly. I dug a bit into what I think Draco would be good at (aside from sarcasm), and anorexia seemed to be it. So I'll stop boring you with my rambling now, and I'll leave you with a well-used phrase of mine before I start off with chapter three. **SILVERCHAIR ROOOOOOOOCKS!**

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He was on the plane to Barcelona, bored out of his wits and incredibly irritable. He was travelling first class (of course), and was already on his third Mai Tai. Ah, the wonders of alcohol. He was feeling better already. Draco had spent his last day in Tuscany walking through the countryside and taking snapshots of the nice views he came across. He'd briefly considered compiling all his photographs in an album for his mother. Maybe she'd appreciate it. He used to think--no, knew--that they could have become close, if his father hadn't always dragged him away from her and her rose garden to discuss the Dark Arts in the study.

An extremely well-dressed lady looked at him up and down, giving him a haughty little look. Was it his fault he _just so happened _to be wearing his Red Hot Chili Peppers shirt when he decided to take the first class flight? No, it wasn't. If she didn't like it, she could shove herself out the window. If she would even _fit._ He sneered at her, though she didn't seem to notice, as she was on her way to the lavatory. Hell, he had more grace, dignity, not to mention money, power, and good looks in his pinky than two or three of her would ever have in a lifetime. Besides, ruffles had gone out of style _years_ before. Who was _she_ to criticise _his_ fashion sense?

The flight wasn't going to last that long, but if it did, he wouldn't have minded. Long trips gave him more opportunities to spend time for himself, alone. Not like he wasn't alone all the time, but this was different, in a way. Draco bit back a laugh. Since he already lacked the sophistication required by those seated nearby, he didn't want everyone to think he'd lost his sanity, too.

When did he start being so introspective? When did he first find out how to look into himself and see what was there, anyway? Five years ago, if anyone had told him he'd be this sappy as a nineteen-year-old, he would have told them they were on wizard crack. Likewise, if anyone had said he would be listening to Muggle rock bands, wearing t-shirts with names of Muggle rock bands on them, and purchasing Muggle technology. He knew full well that four years ago, he would have preferred to die. Hell, he used forks, spoons, knives, and glasses. Muggles used those. He used plates and books. Muggles used those. The Weird Sisters used guitars, bass, and drums, and so did A Perfect Circle, Placebo, and Muse. Why couldn't _he_? Because he was a _Malfoy_? A _pureblood_? Because they brought him up to _hate_ the kind of things he was now discovering (and was properly fascinated with)? Draco wished he'd had a PlayStation back when he was a kid. That would have been a lot of fun. But he was a Malfoy, and it wasn't allowed. Then again, it occurred to him, if anyone had told him he would be anorexic at age fifteen back when he was seven or eight, he would have laughed. If he even knew what anorexia was back then. He doubted he did. Though Granger probably knew. His silver eyes glinted. Funny he should think of Granger. He spent most of his Hogwarts years trying to piss off the Dream Team (usually succeeding), and, strangely enough, he sort of missed them.

Ack, that was _horrible._ Had he actually _thought_ that? Draco smiled wistfully. If only Hogwarts years lasted longer. He'd still be ruling Slytherin House (technically), he'd still be Snape's favourite, he'd still be driving the Gryffindors up the wall, and he'd still be having fun. Not that he wasn't having fun now, but his youth had been pure, mindless fun, and this was different. His _youth?_ So now, he was considering himself _old?_ God, something was horribly twisted with the world!

He pulled the green umbrella out of his drink and added it to his growing collection of similarly coloured umbrellas (conveniently stored in a previously empty pocket of his backpack). He now had drink umbrellas in forest green, neon green, yellow green, and emerald green. He had several others whose exact names he couldn't quite place, and when he got bored, he would arrange them by colour, from lightest to darkest (or vice versa). Yes, he really _was_ pathetic, wasn't he?

Draco was now on his fifth Mai Tai and had two more umbrellas to add to the lot. He counted seventeen in the small bundle. Seventeen alcoholic drinks in two weeks of travel? He really _was_ exercising the self-restraint, wasn't he? How pathetic of him!

--------------------

Shanghai was chilly in April. She walked through Xiangyang Market, exhausted from her fruitless search for her family. The Market wasn't exactly the most relaxing place in China, but looking at all the nice things they were selling made her feel a lot better.  


Cho wanted to get back to the hotel as soon as possible. She still had a letter to write. The bus however, wouldn't be there for another hour at least. She decided to pass the time by doing a bit of shopping. 

There were people everywhere, people who looked like her, people who spoke her native language. Could any of these be her relatives? Her mother had strongly tried to dissuade her from taking this trip to China. Cho's mother had been an orphan, less than half a year and abandoned near a hospital. Female infants were valued less than male infants, and with the one child policy, many baby girls were left alone to die from cold or starvation. Few families had enough money to pay the extremely high taxes for having a second or third child, so they didn't have any.  


Cho was certain her grandmother would be here somewhere. Mrs. Chang had said that it was impossible, but Cho was willing to try, given the absolute lack of information her mother had. Cho didn't even have a name. Mrs. Chang had been adopted by a kind British family.  


Funny, really, she was twenty and jobless, feeling so lost in a place that should have been home. Looking for people that couldn't be found. She was good at Quidditch, but not good enough to get a spot in one of the better teams in the League. Not like she wanted to spend the rest of her life chasing a little golden ball, anyway. Back in her Hogwarts years, she always thought she would be doing so much more. And now, she had nothing. Not even an inkling as to what she would like to do to earn herself a living. She had no direction, and it was getting kind of depressing.  


Five o'clock. The bus was scheduled to arrive at five thirty. She looked at the wares, the modern clothing that was made for export, manufactured in China, the countless pairs of fashionable shoes and Nikes, the silk bags and elegant _cheongsams_ that were on sale. She was drawn to a black, sleeveless variation of the traditional Chinese dress. She smiled faintly as she fingered the material. Smooth silk, and embroidery in a shade of blue so dark, you could hardly notice it. Excellent workmanship. She touched one of the threaded designs. They were small dragons, a magical creature always dear to her heart. She inquired, in the little Mandarin she knew, as to the price of the garment, spent a few minutes haggling, and left with the beautiful dress.  


There was a delicate bag next door that matched her dress exactly, so she purchased that, too. If anything, Draco had taught her how to accessorize. Once, she remembered, she'd questioned his masculinity. "You're so into looking good, Draco. Are you _sure_ you're not gay?" Needless to say, he didn't speak to her for a week. She had only been kidding, anyway, but Draco took these things too seriously.  


She missed him sometimes, Draco. She wished things hadn't turned out the way they had. It was all Mandy Brocklehurst's fault. She didn't want to dwell on the topic, it only brought back bad memories, memories that she wanted to forget.  
She wouldn't forget them anyway, she knew. Much as she tried, she wouldn't forget what she did. Fate was evil.  


Cho berated herself silently. "Draco taught me more than buying the right jewelry to go with my dresses," she hissed. He taught her that people could change. In his case, he changed for the better.  


She only became worse.  


_I'd better go wait at the bus stop,_ she thought to herself, picking up the three or four shopping bags she had full of boots, sneakers, and nice clothing. Even if she didn't find any of her relatives here, she would at least have some pretty new things to wear.  


God, if she could get any shallower.  


She boarded the bus, along with a few other Europeans who had gone on the same trip and stayed at the same hotel. Soon, she could go take a rest, and then write the letter.  


---------------  


_Dear Draco,  
I'm at Shanghai now, same place as I was last time I wrote you (which would be last week, if I remember correctly). Have made no progress whatsoever. Am beginning to think I have no relatives here, and that this little quest of mine is hopeless. Then again, you'd tell me otherwise. I can hear you now, laughing at me. "If you want to achieve, you first have to try, and you have to really want what you're looking for." Sure doesn't sound like you, does it? _

_You've changed over the years, Malfoy. You're nicer now, friendlier, yeah, you're still as sarcastic as you've always been, but some things don't change. Some things will never change. Maybe you just aren't Draco without the drawl, the harsh words, and the cynicism. You used to tell me that I wasn't Cho Chang without the entourage of adoring fans and admirers. Maybe I'm not Cho Chang anymore. I'm all alone here, in China. I see no friendly faces, I hear no kindly voices, and I am farther from home than I have ever been in my life. I have never been so desolate. Why am I bombarding you with my laments? You probably don't care.  
_

Cho smiled, resting her hand a bit, before continuing her letter.  


_Yeah, you don't care. I don't care where _you_ are, either, or what you're doing now. I just felt like bothering you today. Being alone can be so dull. It's times like these that I really miss you, you know? Okay, Draco, warning you now. If you do not want to read any sap, skip this paragraph and the next, and just read the last one.  
_

_It's times like these that make me thankful that I have you to be there for me. You're like my guiding light, you're my shoulder to cry on, you're my knight in shining armour. You're always so supportive, and it seems like you're the only one who ever completely understands me. You accept me the way I am. I don't have to be the picture perfect Cho Chang, Ravenclaw model student, when I'm with you.  
_

_It's why I like being with you. It's like being free, when you come to think of it. Mutual understanding between the two of us, I guess. I don't have to be perfect (like you always say), and you don't have to be a Malfoy.  
_

_Did you skip the last two paragraphs? Ha. Figures. Write me back soon, take care, wherever you are, and remember always that I love you.  
_

_See? I _did_ manage to make you read some mush, after all!  
_

_I love you, Malfoy. Don't forget it. And don't go running off with some socialite beauty while I'm away, or I will personally fly back there on my Comet and KILL YOU. Even if I have to fly the bloody thing over the Ocean, halfway across the world. Even if I die trying. Because I love you.  
_

_I'll spare you from the sugar shock now. Again, take care. I hope I'll be seeing you soon.  
_

_Love always,  
Cho  
_

She signed her name on the parchment with a flourish. Some of the words had become blurred, and she only noticed then that tears had fallen from her eyes. She kissed the letter, rolled up the paper, and tucked it away into a box, along with the other letters she'd written for him over the years after graduation. When she counted them the previous week, there had been one hundred and twelve. This one was the hundred and thirteenth.  


She never had the heart to send any of them.  


Besides, Draco probably hated her. It was his right, and she deserved it.  


But she still loved him.

--------------------

_Author's Note:_ When I told you Cho wouldn't be coming in until much later, I lied. Actually, I didn't plan for her to be in here so soon, but I was bored and I felt like it. This chapter is SO not anywhere as good as the other two. Not like those were good, either, but this is worse, and it's SHORTER. 113, as in 1/13, in honour of Orlando Bloom's birthday on Monday. He turns twenty-six. Happy birthday, Orli! :D And again, I'd like to apologize for this chapter sucking. I will try harder next time. I promise.


	4. Ice and Letters

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer: _Draco Malfoy doesn't belong to me. YET. But he _will, someday_. For now, he remains the property of JK Rowling. Until she decides to give him to me as a sweet sixteen birthday present. No infringement intended.  
_Author's Note:_ I suppose that _was_ for your benefit, but really, how _did_ Draco get into that stuff, right? I felt I had to find a way to explain. And no, it isn't as simple as Draco darling suddenly having an urge to fly off to Asia. He'll get there eventually, though, otherwise, it won't be halfway across the world anymore. I have this _all_ planned now, and the only other person who _knows_ this plan (the current plan, anyway) is my cousin. Can't believe I'm actually writing this stuff. Gosh. Oh, and no, he isn't of legal drinking age, but did you actually think _that_ will stop him? The Mai Tai and Green Drink Umbrella parts were tributes to Cassandra Claire of Draco Trilogy fame. Oh, and thanks to The Great One for the model idea. :D I didn't use it _exactly, _though.

This chapter is mostly made up of letters. They do have _some_ relevance, and they're quite easier to write. D'you know that I already have one of the last chapters written?

_This chapter is dedicated to Orlando Bloom. Happy twenty-sixth birthday! It is also dedicated to Cassandra Claire (who will never read it). Thank you for giving the world brilliant fiction and brilliant humour._

--------------------

He'd arrived at Barcelona, and tried to watch a bullfight, but left halfway due to extreme nausea. Draco couldn't stand the sight of blood. Not a very good weakness for someone who should have been a Death Eater, but what have you? He didn't _want_ to be a Death Eater, anyway, and his father had accepted that. For the time being. Draco knew Lucius like the back of his hand. Lucius still believed that Draco would give up and grow out of this 'ridiculous teenage rebellion' (his father's words, not his). His teenage years were fast approaching their end, but he felt no urge to have his skin permanently marred with some ugly, unfashionable symbol of evil anytime soon. _Painfully_ unfashionable, and he meant that literally.  
  
What the hell was he doing?  
  
What the _hell_ was he doing on another plane, on the way to _Switzerland_? He could be at home, doing important things. He could be working right now, he could be at the Ministry, slowly inching his way up to a high position. He could be gaining riches, power, and influence.  
  
Was he doing so?  
  
No. He wasn't.  
  
What was he doing, then?  
  
Absolutely nothing.  
_  
I wonder what _Cho's_ doing now, _Draco mused whimsically. She was either making a living off being a pop star, or doing small acting bits. Hell, maybe she was a model, maybe she'd been one of those masked women on the catwalk, at the Vera Wang show he'd caught while he had been in Milan. Wherever the hell she was, she was still being loved, being important, being famous, popular, and being _perfect._ Same old, same old. Some things (or in this case, people) would never change, and Cho, he thought, was one of them.  
_  
He_ had changed, however. He'd changed in such a great way, he hardly knew himself anymore. Sure, he was still sarcastic, but he didn't _deliberately_ try to be mean to every person he walked past. Not like before. It was quite strange, really. There was less pressure on him now, less pressure to maintain his reputation, less pressure to keep up appearances. It had been fun, of course, but he wouldn't have wanted an obsession with his notoriety to control his life.  
  
He dug through his immense backpack and unearthed a battered notebook.  
_  
Green Umbrella Count:_ 24 (note to self: sobriety _pathetic_)  
_Number of Photographs Taken: _113 (inadequate)  
_Number of Countries Visited (on trip):_ 3 (passable)  
_  
Have done nothing of any value on this trip (at all) except think of one person that I do not want to think about. This, obviously, completely defeats the point of coming on this trip to begin with. Am beginning to think that I should just go home, but this would only prove that father was right, after all, about trip being stupid and pointless. V. pathetic thing to do, really. Giving up is not a Malfoy trait. Must save dignity, must continue trip, must try to forget about my "ex," must take more photographs, must spend more than three days in one country. Will attempt to remain in Switzerland for a week. Have heard that even though scenery is v. beautiful, Switzerland v. depressing place to live. Suicide rate v. high. Psychological, apparently. Have dreary weather, will have dreary life. No wonder British people are so boring. We only have sun for two weeks. Note to self: go back to Spain, go visit Ibiza. V. interesting place, plenty of action. Also v. sunny during the day. No wonder Spanish people so cheerful and friendly. Not to mention tanned.  
Am finally developing a tan. Looks quite strange on me. Skin has never had colour in my life. Am not used to seeing any other shade but white on self. Tan, however, is quite becoming. Father will be horrified.  
_  
Draco smirked as he tucked his pen back into the pockets of his shorts. Wait. _Shorts?_ Shorts in _Switzerland?_ Draco groaned and hit himself over the head. What part of '_Switzerland is cold and sometimes snowy_' had eluded his line of thinking while he threw his clothes on that morning?  
  
All of it, he surmised cheerfully. Thank God for carry-on luggage. He pulled his clothing out of his bag and made a mad dash for the lavatory.

--------------------

Beijing was even colder than Shanghai, but this didn't prove to be a problem for her. She had no relatives in Shanghai. Either that, or she hadn't looked hard enough. She didn't have any more patience for a search that extensive. Cho had finally decided to just kick back and see what China was all about. Shanghai was good for shopping, but Beijing was the place to go if you wanted to see _history._

Cho was, however, tired of walking around in circles on Tiananmen Square. She _knew_ she was walking around in circles. She had wanted to. There had been nothing else to do. She'd seen every tourist spot there _was_ in Beijing, and the only major observation she had was that there were so many _trees_ and so many _bikes._ And that Shanghai International Airport was a lot prettier than the one in Beijing, but that was irrelevant.

Finally exhausted, she sat on a clean, empty spot of floor and leaned against the lamp post. _Draco wouldn't have been able to stand this place_, she thought. _Far too dirty for his delicate tastes. _

_He would have wanted to be an emperor, though. Imagine, thousands of concubines, one Emperor Draco Malfoy. Huang Ti Draco?_ Cho grinned. _Huang Ti_ meant _emperor,_ as far as she knew. _Imagine that, having any girl you wanted, having as many as you wanted. Having that kind of behaviour accepted by the masses as your right._ Ancient China would be Draco Land, through and through. Too bad he wasn't here to see it. But that was her own fault.

--------------------

_Dear Mother,_

_I am now in Beijing. It is, unfortunately, as you expected. I have not found any relatives. I don't know why I even bothered trying, but I felt that there was something missing in me. It's still lost, I still haven't found it. I grow weary here, and I want to go home. Will be back on the next flight available._

_Love,_  
_Cho_

--------------------

_Dear Cho,_

_I'm glad you've finally come to your senses. Much as I would like you to come home, your father's sister in Manila, your Aunt Mei, would like very much for you to stay at _least_ a week in their house at Forbes Park. I could hardly decline, they already sent the plane ticket, first class, which is attached to this message I am sending you. I suppose it will be better for you to actually _meet_ some relatives, as opposed to hunting for those that do not want to be found._

_I have not met my biological family, Cho, but I have found my _real_ one in your grandmother and grandfather. Of all people, I feel I should be the one who is lacking something inside. But there is nothing missing in my life, I am content, as should you be, darling._

_I've met your Aunt Mei, she and your uncle, Andrew, are wonderful, incredibly jetsetting people. Doubtless you will enjoy your stay in the Philippines._

_Take care of yourself, and I hope I'll see you soon. Try not to sink into that depression. Life is too short for that._

_Love always,_  
_Mum_

--------------------

_Dear Mother,_

_I'm in Switzerland. It's freezing. No, I have not found myself, I have not finished what I set out to do. I have, however, taken a few marvellous pictures and bought some excellent art, which I am sure has been sent to the Manor. Enclosed is an album composed of the aforementioned pictures. I, however, am not in them, because I was the one taking them. We should go to Italy someday, you and I. The scenery is beautiful. Not that the scenery here isn't nice, of course, just that it's too cold for us. Then we could go to France, to Paris, to Milan. You could go shopping and we could go to museums._

_Actually, we could just get to know each other better._

_Sometimes I feel like we're so distant, like we hardly know each other. But I have always felt that you have understood me, Mother, and I love you for that._

_Take care._

_Am freezing, but happy. Am also very amazed at the fact that there is an Owl Post Office here. Who would have thought?_

_--Draco_

--------------------

_Dearest Draco,_

_Italy looks stunning, darling, and your photographs of the sunrise are exquisite. I think I _will_ go there (with you) someday, and while you're taking photographs, I can attempt to capture its magnificence with my paintbrush. Your father feels upset about your not writing _him_ a letter. I, of course, ignored all of his complaints. I told him that if he wanted you to communicate with him, he'd better stop being such a stubborn git. I told him to apologize to you, and he stormed out of the room. Typical Lucius. You are the same way, sometimes, but often, I see myself in you as well._

_He doesn't understand you, Draco. He doesn't understand me. He doesn't understand that part of us that we share. But believe me when I tell you that he tries his hardest. Believe me when I tell you that he _does_ love you, very much. He just doesn't know how to show it. He was raised not knowing how to love, Draco. It's hard to unlearn what you have been practicing all your life._

_He just wants you to be happy, to have everything you need. He worries about you. He _does_ accept that maybe being a Death Eater isn't your path, isn't your destiny, and for now, he says he won't speak more on the matter._

_I, however, am glad that you aren't going to jeopardize your life and your future on an allegiance with the Dark Lord._

_I am also glad that you seem to be enjoying yourself._

_Enclosed is a Warming Potion. Use it, I beg you. I would have sent you your wand, but I felt that you would probably send it back to me. You are like your father in _so _many ways, stubbornness included._

_I'm quite happy that you managed to find the Owl Post Office in Switzerland. I didn't even know they _had_ one.  
Take care of yourself, dress warmly, and if you need anything, _write.

_Love,_  
_Mother_

--------------------

_Draco,_

_Read the letter you wrote to your mother, even though she initially refused to let me look at it. I am happy to hear that you are doing well. I was hoping you'd finished with whatever you wanted to accomplish, but I understand that these things take time._

_I was writing to apologize for being so negative about your trip. I'm your father, I should be supporting you, and I haven't been doing so lately._

_I'm sorry. Don't expect me to say it again._

_I won't say anything about the Death Eater matter, either, as that may cause you to never speak to me again. Or so your mother warned me._

_Father_

--------------------

_Dear Cho,_

_I was so glad to hear that you would be coming to visit us! Don't you think a week's too short? There are so many places here we want to take you to, and your cousins, Avery and Alexandra (Alex, she says, as she is reading over my shoulder) are quite excited (quite? Mum, gimme the paper, _I'm_ writing the letter to Cho, she says)_ _to finally meet you._

_Cho—_

_Right, anyway, this is Alex, I've booted Mom off the letter-writing thing, since she's absolutely incapable, apparently. LISTEN, you HAVE to stay at LEAST a month. At LEAST. Pleeeeeease? We'll go everywhere, and anywhere you want! There's so much to see here! At _least_ a month, Cho, at _least_ a month!_

_Please? Owl us back soon! We can't wait!_

_Always,_

_Alex_

--------------------

_Dear Alex,_

_Maybe I _will_ stay more than a week. Your offer sounds tempting. Can't wait to meet you guys, too. While I'm here, want anything from China?_

_--Cho_

--------------------

_Cho,_

_We don't want anything! We just want you to be here!_

_--Alex_

--------------------

_Alex,_

_Too late. Bought you some nice Chinese clothing. For costume purposes, if you're not daring enough to wear these things in public. Very pretty._

_Take care of yourself! I'll see you soon!_

_--Cho_

--------------------

_Dear Draco,_

_I'm at the Beijing International Airport, and I'm about to go off to Manila to meet my father's family. No, my original plan to look for my mother's family has failed. I'm disappointed, but pretty much content. Wherever you are at the moment, I hope you're doing well. Doubtless you're enjoying yourself._

_China is cold. I was in Tiananmen Square two days ago, sitting by a lamp post and thinking of you. You see, emperors in ancient China reminded me of something you might have wanted to be. Why? It's because these emperors had at least a thousand concubines each. Imagine that! One for every night of the year for the rest of your life! It made me laugh to think of you being an emperor. You would have done an excellent job._

_This place is so grand. I look at the architecture and I just stand there in awe. Initially, I thought it was quite plain, quite boring, but then I remembered that this stuff was made countless centuries ago. I cannot help but marvel at the art of it._

_Anyway, I'm going to the Philippines. Sun, sand, shopping, and the occasional terrorist. That place is a country of families, entertainment, and politics. Most of the time, all three mix, and when they do, that, apparently, equals power._

_What a screwed up place, eh?_

_Your type of place._

_I miss you. I wish you were here, but wherever you are, you're doing something more important._

_Always remember that I love you._

_Yours,  
Cho_

--------------------

She tucked the letter into her box and boarded the airplane.

--------------------

_Author's Note:_ What was Draco's journal entry about? It's about ME plugging Cassie Claire's Very Secret Diaries of the Fellowship. Hilarious. Am so glad they're back. This is obviously not a very angsty chapter. It is also not very long. It is _also_ not very interesting.


	5. The Letter and the Mistake

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer:_ Draco Malfoy and Orlando Bloom are the property of me. In a wonderful yet oh so distant dream. Ah, well, for now, at least, JKR _still_ owns Draco Malfoy.  
_Author's Note:_ Hurrah! I actually made it to chapter five! I have everything planned out. :D Don't worry about the great big ocean that's separating them. I'm an author, I can get over anything. Heehee. This is actually going to be one of the shortest chapters in the whole fic. Actually, this IS the shortest chapter. But this is where the action really STARTS.

This chapter is dedicated to anyone and everyone who has read this story. Thanks!

--------------------

Alex stepped into Cho's room, surveying the mess that ensued when her cousin went into a packing frenzy. Trust her mother to go and send Cho off to a beach resort. Without her. Alex frowned disdainfully. If only school would start a bit (or a lot, preferably) later! Then she could go to Boracay with Cho. But Mom had said no, and when Mom said no, it was final.

"What's this…?" Alex said softly, noticing a roll of parchment on the desk. It was sealed. It was obviously a letter, addressed to one Draco Malfoy.

"Oh!" Alex exclaimed, "Cho forgot to send this letter!" she said, to no one in particular, as there was no one else in the room with her. Cho was out with Avery, at the bookstore, looking for new titles to buy and bring along on the trip. Avery was the one who was into art and liked to read. Alex was more of a musician. She, considering herself a _very_ kind and considerate person (Avery would beg to disagree, however), decided to send the letter for her hassled cousin.

"Corgan!" she called out, and her owl flew to her arm. "Alright, Corgan, take this to Draco Malfoy," she said, attaching the parchment to the owl's leg. Corgan flew off into the sunlight.

Alex smiled and whistled to herself. She decided not to tell Cho what she had done.

--------------------

Draco was dressed in the blessedly warm clothes Narcissa had owled him two days ago. Perched on the balcony overlooking the snow-capped mountains, Draco finally knew what inner peace really meant. So this was what it was like, feeling like there was nothing wrong with the world at all. Draco smiled a bit. Beauty could really do that to you.

Beauty had done it to him before, but that had been false beauty and false peace named Cho Chang.

He'd had his mother ship his recently bought Spanish guitar to him, so that he could make some noise and see if, aside from having exceptional looks, he had musical talent, too. Unfortunately, this wasn't so. He tried, however, and played long into the night. The guests in the neighbouring rooms tended to complain, and when they did, he stopped playing. For about an hour.

The people at the hotel would never get any sleep! Not while _he_ was around.

Feeling particularly naughty, he hopped off the balcony's railing and searched his room for the guitar.

He dug through his dirty clothes and his luggage, and finally found the guitar under his bed. "Right!" he cheered, unclasping the case. A snowy owl flew at him and landed on the guitar's third fret. It dropped a rolled-up piece of parchment into his hand, gave him a friendly peck on the ear, and disappeared into the sky.

Who the hell would be writing to him? This wasn't Narcissa's handwriting, _or_ Lucius' and nobody else knew where he was. Then again, those dratted owls seemed to know where _everyone_ was. Draco opened the mysterious letter.

_ Dearest Draco,_

_I am now in Manila. In the Philippines. My relatives' house is gigantic. I've been to every mall in the vicinity and there are so many nice things to buy. Unfortunately, I'm broke. Fortunately, Alex and Avery aren't. Quite the opposite, really, those kids get such a huge allowance, they don't mind spending it on me. At all. In fact, they're the ones dragging me to every single store in sight._

_Recently, though, they took me to this store for swimwear, and I was, like, _swimwear? Why would I need that?_ and they just said that it was a secret, and I should go pick out what I wanted. _

Have gotten over disappointment about finding Mum's family. I guess I just wasn't meant to find them. I was happy without them before, why can't I be happy without them now, right? Or so you would say. 

So how are you? How is life at Malfoy Manor? Boring? Stiff? Dull? Come here, then! It's sunny here, most of the time, and lots of fun! 

Aunt Mei, Uncle Andrew, Alex, Avery, and I went to this fabulous theme park the other day. It's called Enchanted Kingdom. Nothing like Disneyland, of course, but lots of fun, anyway. I wish you could have been there with me. 

Anyway, I'm leaving for this beach resort called Crystal Sands in a place called Boracay. Aunt Mei and Uncle Andrew surprised me with the tickets and the brochure at dinner last night. I wish you could be there, but wherever you are, you're doing something important. 

I miss you a lot. I can't count how many times I've told myself how much I wished you could be here with me. I haven't seen you in such a long time, and must constantly rely on letters to tell you how I feel. 

Well, Draco, I'm going off to Boracay tomorrow, much to the disdain of my cousin Alex, who wishes she could come with me. She and Avery have school. I would have liked for them to accompany me on this trip, as being alone can be so...lonely. 

MISS YOUUUUUUU! And I love you so much! Take care of yourself, and I hope to see you soon! 

Always remember that I love you, okay? You mean the world to me. 

--Cho 

He sat in shock for about half an hour, digesting the words written on the parchment. 

"What the HELL is this?!" he yelled angrily, grabbing his cloak and a duffel bag. "What in BLOODY HELL _is_ this crap?" He grabbed a fragment of parchment and scribbled a hasty note onto it. 

_Mother, _

Am going to the Philippines to sort a little mess out. Am having most of luggage delivered back to Manor. Will write when I arrive. 

--Draco 

He stormed out the door, note and luggage in his hands, and made for the elevator. 

"Could you please have these delivered to Malfoy Manor?" he asked the receptionist. The hotel was a wizarding hotel. Narcissa couldn't bear not knowing if his lodgings were suitable for a young Malfoy, and insisted he check in there. The receptionist nodded and smiled graciously. "Mister Malfoy," she said in a heavily accented voice, "will you be coming back?" 

"Not for another week at least, but hold my room for me, would you?" he replied. The receptionist nodded again. 

Draco hailed a taxi and had himself taken to the airport. His head was throbbing and his breathing was troubling him. This could pretty much have been the most confusing thing he'd ever read in his life. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. 

Looks like he'd be going to Asia, after all. 

--------------------

"Alex?" Cho called out. "Alex, have you seen the parchment that was on my desk yesterday morning?" she asked her cousin. Alex poked her head into the room. "The one that was addressed to Draco Malfoy? Yeah, I had it sent that afternoon. Why?" Alex asked. "If you must know, Corgan isn't back yet. Wherever he is, he must be REALLY far away, otherwise, Corgan ought to be back by now," she added.

Sent.

To Draco Malfoy.

Cho felt her heart stop.

"Cho? Hey, Cho, what's wrong? It's like the blood's draining from your face, you're so bloody white!" Alex exclaimed. "Cho? Cho, what the hell's the matter with you? What's wrong?"

"You sent it to Draco?"

"Yeah, I sent it to Draco. Oh, look, there's Corgan now!" Alex said, pointing out the window.

Suddenly Cho felt like everything was going to go wrong.

--------------------

_Author's Note:_ I have left you haaaangiiiiiing! MWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA! Actually, I'm going to leave you hanging for quite a while since I intend to dabble more into Draco and Cho's former relationship.


	6. Sun, Sand, and Showdowns

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer:_ I have spoken with JKR, and she says that I can have Draco. Right. I wish. She _still_ owns Draco Malfoy. WHAT MUST I DO TO GAIN POSSESSION OF HIM? Write ANOTHER icky fanfic?  
_Author's Note:_ I was about to write something like "I have no idea what to do next, so this fic is on hiatus until further notice," but I figured that was _too_ evil, even for me.You want it, you get it. 'Nuff said. Ü Enjoy chapter six! Oh, and I'm from the Philippines. I figured it would be easier for me to drag them around my own country. I _have_ been to China, though, and managed to do the whole Forbidden City in a day. Whee! **EDIT: **Edited because of STUPID Microsoft Word SO many times, it's almost PAINFUL.

_For all the poets and starving artists out there. You are going to change the world._

--------------------

Sun, sand, seashells, and the warm, clear blue water. Why had she _never_ come to the Philippines before? She was glad that the Lopezes managed to discover she was only three hours away from Manila (by flight). It was really touching, to be accepted immediately by people you've never met before. She really _felt_ like family, and this, she believed, was what endeared the Filipino people to her. They were so family-oriented. Alex would talk often about being invited to her boyfriend's clan's Christmas Eve and New Year parties. "I went once, they're really fun! All the family, first and second cousins, they're all there, and they play games and stuff, tell stories, do a bit of really bad karaoke. They're all so close, and they only get together twice a year. It's so much fun!"

Since Mei's family was in Britain, Andrew took the family to the Lopez reunions every year. _Must be so lonely for Aunt Mei, to see Uncle Andrew, Alex, and Avery having so much fun with _their_ relatives._

Which was probably why Aunt Mei had insisted on Cho's visit to Manila, to have _some_ communication with her relations in Britain.

Cho sat down, leaning against a palm tree, remembering what had happened a few nights before. Dinner at the Manila Peninsula Hotel. Alex had tried to convince her to live with them in Manila, get a job as an actress or model, and move to the Philippines permanently. Avery had actually agreed with her (for once), and Aunt Mei seemed excited by the idea, but Cho laughed and declined. "I think I have to go back home. Besides, much as I like it here, I just don't belong," she admitted, unconsciously wringing her napkin in her hands. Mei nodded thoughtfully. "I figured as much. England really _is_ your home, after all, but remember, darling, there's always a place for you here."

"Thanks. That's really nice to know."

She stood and took a bit of a stroll along the seashore. The late afternoon sun shone down, striking the faint highlights in her ebony hair as the waves kissed her feet. Occasionally, the water lapped at the free-flowing ends of her blue sarong, its fabric swaying with the soft breeze. (The sarong was one of Alex's shopping conquests, to go with the red Roxy bikini Avery insisted on buying for her. "If you're going to the beach, it's best to look as foxy as possible!" he declared in typical teenage boy fashion, helping Alex drag her to a dressing room.)

She'd never felt such relaxation, strolling on the beach.

The sand was like fine powder, pure white dust, and the water was so clear, she could see the details the nail artist had drawn on her toes. The water was warm, but refreshing, and only reached to her waist, even when she had been almost twenty meters from the shore. It grew deeper, but gradually. Colourful fish had swum through her legs and around her. If there was such a place as paradise, Boracay could have been it. Crystal Sands was most aptly named.

"Oh, wow," she stammered in awe as she looked out to the sky. Wordlessly, she pulled her camera off her wrist and took a few amateurish photographs of the waning sun, casting a glow of orange rays over the glittering blue horizon. Sunsets had always captivated her, as had the beauty of the moon in the starry night. Being careful not to spill her piña colada, she gently sat herself down in the shallows of the warm sea, admiring the view.

Cho found it easy to forget her troubles, being faced with the most spectacular sight she would ever see.

If only she knew her troubles were on their way to her.

--------------------

The flight to Manila would take a day, and from there, Narcissa had already booked him a reservation for that Crystal Sands resort Cho had spoken of in her letter.

Merlin, what a confusing letter that had been. It still puzzled him, as he tried to dissect it and what it meant. From the way she worded it, it seemed like she'd been writing him constant updates of her life. But he hadn't received any. Hell, he didn't _want_ to receive any, and if she was delusional enough to think he would forgive her, then there must have been something seriously wrong with her head.

_Always remember that I love you._

That line had been the clincher for him. It was what convinced him to just drop everything (not like he'd been _doing_ anything) and fly straight to the Philippines. It was what made him realise that writing her a letter demanding an explanation wouldn't work, that they had to discuss this face to face and get the problem over and done with once and for all. It dragged him back to the Hogwarts days. To the Draco-and-Cho days. To those days when he felt like he ruled the world because he had the most coveted girlfriend of the school, and he didn't even care because he actually _loved_ her.

That line had been in every single one of the letters she'd _ever_ written to him during their school years. Whenever he read that line, it seemed he could feel the sincerity of her words, the reality of their feelings for each other. Those words haunted him. They were the greatest mockery she could have done him. He used to believe in them, believe that she always loved him, believed that there was no possible way she _couldn't_ love him the way he loved her.

_This was all just a bet I took too far._

How could it have been a bet? Was she that good an actress, that she could fool you into believing her? That when she looked into your eyes, she could make you think that she really loved you? Was she that good?

She never knew how much it had hurt him, to have something like that thrown in his face. It was like telling him he'd been dumb enough to think someone like _her_ would ever truly love him. After all, he was a Malfoy. He was a monster, wasn't he? He was a heartless shell of a person, someone who didn't deserve any sympathy from anyone else.

But it was the time they'd spent together that he was questioning. If it had all been a bet with some obscure student from Ravenclaw that he didn't know and didn't care to know, why had she spent so much time with him outside school? She was with him in their free time, walking around Hogwarts, or studying together in the library, trying to stifle laughs so that Madam Pince wouldn't throw them out. They spent their Hogsmeade weekends together, window shopping or having drinking games (sponsored by Madam Rosmerta, who found their relationship very amusing).

He didn't even mind when Potter threw him death glares (he _was_ dating Potter's crush of two or three years, you know). He didn't feel smug when the other male students at Hogwarts gave him dark looks or jealous glances. He didn't like Cho for the attention she brought him. He didn't like her because she was a prize girlfriend. He liked her because she treated him like a human being, like a normal person, and not because his social standing and reputation at Hogwarts had skyrocketed when she broke up with that popular bloke she'd been seeing to be with him.

And if it was a dare, why did she stay with him so long? At most, the typical 'hook this guy' dare would last about a month. He would know, he had played those games with the other Slytherins in the past. Pansy had been the best at them, and almost _always_ won. He'd lost nearly a hundred Galleons to her in total.

How much had Cho won for stringing him along for that great a period of time? He thought he would never know, but now, he'd be getting the chance to ask.

Merlin, he just realised it now. He'd be seeing Cho Chang after three whole years of trying to forget. What was he going to _say?_ How did he _look?_

_Mental note: stop by bathroom before getting on flight to Caticlan, make sure that you look extra extra good, just to show her what she threw away._

Draco grinned. Narcissism was so much fun.

--------------------

The in-house band was about to start playing an acoustic gig on a small stage by the shore. They were setting up the amps and organizing their setlist quietly. They had different bands fly in every week to perform nightly gigs, apparently, and this band was one of the newer, more popular rock bands of the country. Cho found it really great that they were all girls. Crystal Sands' guests were seated on sarongs and woven mats spread across the sand, some people in groups, some people alone, and some _very_ sappy couples. Cho was one of those who were by themselves, sprawled on a mat made of abaca fibers called a _banig_, leaning against a small pile of pillows. She had a drink in her hand, another piña colada (her third or fourth since that sunset two or three days ago. You could really lose track of time in this place).

The lead singer tapped the mic and grinned at everyone. "Er…good evening, guys. For those of you who don't know, we're Drag Queen, and even though we usually play very loud things, we thought this would be a great opportunity to try out live acoustic sets," she gave them a somewhat embarrassed, sheepish smile. "We haven't exactly done those since high school, so we _may_ be a bit rusty, and if you'd bear with us, that'd be great," she said. "I'm Lux, lead singer-slash-bassist, the genius on guitar is Elle, and the moron banging on the k-hon is Bree." Bree promptly kicked Lux's leg. "Haha. Anyway, we're Drag Queen, and this is covers night because we don't _have_ acoustic songs of our own."

Cho closed her eyes and relaxed as the familiar melody of Satellite by the Dave Matthews Band sang through her perceptions.

They played two more Dave Matthews songs after that (#41 and Crash Into Me), and then some Incubus tunes (Mexico, Drive, Stellar, I Miss You, and a few others that she didn't know the titles to). Just as Elle banged on the first chorus of Silverchair's Ana's Song, a hand gripped her shoulder. She knew this hand, strangely enough.

Her eyes flew open and she tried to stifle a gasp as she looked up at a familiar face. A face she'd been dreading to see.

"_What_ is the meaning of this?" Draco hissed, waving her letter in front of her. "What is the _meaning_ of this, Cho Chang?"

--------------------

_Author's Note:_ There is _no possible way_ that I can be sane when I'm actually _writing_ this stuff. God help me. I am appalled. I am writing ROMANCE. I am disgusted. Of _all _romances, it has to be one that ISN'T slash. I almost erased the entire chapter by accident. Hurrah that I saved before being stupid! Otherwise, I'd have probably sunk into a depression so deep, I'd be dissuaded from continuing. I'm leaving you hanging again. MWAHAHAHAHAHA! Review! Ü


	7. You Can Do Nothing

****

COME AROUND  
_Disclaimer: _Draco Malfoy WILL belong to me. He _will_. At present, however, he still _doesn't,_ so I'll just wait. For now, he belongs to JK Rowling, bless her soul.  
_Author's Note:_ This is actually chapter seven. I am appalled. Seriously. Well, I hope you guys enjoy this! :D I'm glad you've been liking it so far. I didn't think a Draco/Cho fic would get so many responses!

For Draco. 

--------------------

"What is the _meaning_ of this, Cho Chang?" Draco hissed, his grey eyes gleaming with something that Cho could only recognise as loathing. She could find no words to give as an explanation for the past three years, what more an explanation for that letter? What could she say? _Oh, Draco, I've been using you as a diary? Oh, I didn't write that? _There was nothing in the _world _she could possibly have said that would replace the cruel look on his face with the expression she _so badly_ wanted to see. He wouldn't forgive her. Cho met his stormy grey eyes for a split second, pleading with him, but his eyes were glass and they would not yield.

A cold gust of wind blew through her hair and tousled Draco's fine silver locks. A shiver raced down her back as the frigid air sensitized her skin. Draco seemed to take no notice of the drop in the temperature. His silver irises remained locked to her own black ones, demanding of her something she just _could not_ provide.

"I asked for an explanation, Cho. I came all the way here from Switzerland to get one, and I am _going_ to get one. _What_ is this letter about?" he asked her slowly, and relatively calmly.

Cho was silent. She had no words. Something in her lack of speech woke his fury.

"_Damn it, _Cho, _say_ something!" he yelled angrily, throwing the parchment down by her sandaled feet. "_Anything!_ Tell me it was a lie, a joke, another jab at my already broken _heart,_ I don't give a damn anymore! _Say something, damn you! Say something!"_

She could see his muscles tense as he spoke his harsh words, fists clenching and unclenching. The already disturbed band finished their Silverchair set, and, giving the two a queer look, began playing Coldplay. Draco seemed to have noticed the audience's attention. Grasping her arm, he pulled her to her feet and nearly dragged her to a more secluded place. Somewhere they could talk with out being disturbed. Or disturbing anyone _else,_ for that matter. He placed both his hands on her shoulders, not feeling her shiver with the contact. He was calm again (or so Cho perceived), and he bent slightly to be at level with her eyes.

"Explain. Then I'll go away and you can enjoy your vacation in peace. Just say something. Anything. Lie to me, as long as it's good enough for me to believe. _Anything,_ Cho," he pleaded, the look in his eyes widening the crack in her heart.

Time stood still for what seemed like eternity. The two remained there, feet planted solidly on the ground, staring each other, and there was no sound save the crashing of the waves, the rustling of the palm leaves, and the distant beat of Drag Queen's music. Cho broke their stare, and their silence. She looked away from him, out towards the sea. The Boracay water that had gone from clear blue to an opaque black, shining silver in the moonlight. She could feel the sand beneath her, that fine powder that was never too hot to walk on, even at noon. The grains of white that could have been snow, had they felt a bit colder and more wet. Cho broke their silence.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered into the night breeze.

Draco met her eyes again. Cho noticed that his hair had grown longer, and he was not as pale as he once was. He seemed healthy, and after years of seeing him deathly thin and withdrawn, Cho was so glad for it.

"Cho, I'm not here for an apology. I'm here for an explanation."

--------------------

Seeing her again was _difficult_. He'd planned his entire speech, every single word. Actually being _faced_ with her made him forget everything he'd wanted to say. Cho was taller, older, more mature than she had been, and even more beautiful than he remembered her to be. "I want an explanation," he repeated clearly.

Cho looked up at him, holding his grey eyes captive with her gaze. "I have no explanations, Draco," she replied almost inaudibly, pulling on the loose ends of the white sarong that was wrapped around her waist. "All I can tell you is that I meant every word." She glanced at him, hoping, but Draco turned away spitefully, eyes burning and clouding over.

"I knew you were a good liar, Cho, but even _your_ brilliant acting isn't enough to make me believe _that,_" he spat at her maliciously, taking a few steps out of the shadows, away from her. The moonlight glimmered on his skin, making it glow.

He crossed his arms defiantly over his chest as he stared out towards the ocean. It was such a cold night.

"What will it take to convince you that I'm telling you the truth, Draco?" Cho asked desperately, her stricken expression contorting her fair features.

"Nothing will. Nothing. Nothing will change what you did, and you _know_ it," he snapped sharply, giving her one last glare before disappearing into the night.

--------------------

__

So this_ is what they mean by _paradise, Draco thought sleepily as the golden rays of morning sunlight shone on his face. He'd woken with the gentle touch of the sun and the sound of birds singing. He'd never exactly seen the appeal of nature before he began his trek around the globe. He understood it now, however. The calm of the clouds in the refreshing blue sky, the soothing nature of wind, waves, and the swaying of trees. Life was beautiful, and nothing could be wrong in heaven.

There was no urgent need to wake and get to work in heaven. There was no work to speak of. No responsibilities to attend to. Nothing. Just himself, the sun, the sand, and the sea, and even though Cho proved to be quite a dilemma for him, this place, this small archipelago in the middle of nowhere was still paradise to him, and forever would be.

He reached for the comb by his bedside table, and grabbed a piece of paper instead.

Draco, __

Can we discuss this rationally? Like, over dinner, perhaps? At the Seaside Grill? How does 7:30 sound? Please?

--Cho 

He didn't appreciate the flippant tone in the note, but he didn't want her to go angsting on him, either. Whatever. He'd go and hear her out. But he wouldn't make any promises.

--------------------

__

Author's Note: Yay. Now that I _officially_ have writer's block, this may just be the last chapter for quite a while. Sorry. It is also the shortest. Hurrah. You can all hate me now. :D


	8. Sky, and a Love That Once Was

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer: _I own Draco. I own Draco. I own Draco. Haha. I own his smirk, his sneer, his bad attitude, his sharp wit, his brattiness, his good looks, and basically everything good about him. JK Rowling owns everything else.  
_Author's Note: _I felt like explaining my writer's block to you. In the hope of getting it out of my system completely. I have this storyline completed. I know _exactly_ how to end it. I even know the theme song for the last chapter, which I will have to insist you download someday, because it's beautiful. I know how the last two or three chapters are going to go. The problem is in GETTING there. I've got this huge, HUUUUUGE gap to fill, and it's kinda draining. Not to mention the fact that school is too bloody evil for words. But I was really disappointed with myself. I'll have you know that I have NEVER finished one multiple-chapter fanfic. Seriously. And I figured I'd make this one the first. Cheers! **EDIT:** I loathe HTML. I loathe formatting. I hate it, hate it, HATE IT! *sigh*

_For you._

--------------------

The ocean was crystalline, a blanket of glittering white and blue diamonds, darker than the cerulean sky, but infinitely paler, and both were so immensely beautiful that he found it difficult to compare them. He had five or six more hours before he had to meet up with Cho and discuss their precarious situation over freshly squeezed fruit drinks and plates of food.

He was dreading this meeting. Dreading, and anticipating. He liked to think there was no barrier between the two. They were one and the same, depending on your line of thinking. He wanted so badly to just forget about the whole affair, just let it slip from his mind and leave him in peace. For a while, Draco had actually thought he'd done it, forgotten about her. But her letter, in all its simplicity, had evoked such emotion from within him, something along the lines of nostalgia, and even longing, though he denied it profusely, even to himself.

_You're such a sap._

Draco smirked wistfully to himself, remembering the good old days when he was the heartless, inherently evil Slytherin bastard, always ready to find any means possible to make trouble for everyone else.

_You know, Draco, sometimes I think your crankiness was just a front._

He sat up, surprised that at the most inopportune time, her voice popped into his head. He recalled that day, that night. They'd spoken of things so superficial, yet so important. How had that conversation gone again? Draco immersed himself in the cool, clear water, and tried to remember everything.

_A front? What do you mean?_

She smiled at him then, pausing to think, to clarify her explanation. She was always so pretty when she was thinking, her expression made him think the matter would bring about the end of the world if she presented it wrongly, like it was a situation of life and death, so consequential that even _she_ had to care about it. But it wasn't.

_Hmm…well, you know, it's like you used your calm, collected, cruel demeanor to lock everyone out of yourself._

It shocked him, to be psycho-analysed in such a way. But he blocked the initial feeling of surprise out, and managed to smile in a clever manner. The smile that she'd always said she found so 'cute.' Well. He _was_ cute, after all. Ha. Typical. Here he was, being narcissistic again.

__

Right. So, Doctor Freud, what's brought you to this conclusion?

She grinned, hit him gently on the arm, an arm which he casually draped across her shoulders. He felt her shudder. The grin left her face, and her seriousness reclaimed her.

_The fact that you're sitting there, listening to me ramble about the inner workings of _your_ mind, maybe? If you were really heartless, maybe you would have stood up by now, maybe you'd snap at me, sneer at me, and tell me how wrong I was. You'd curse me. You'd be so angry, you'd either hit me or storm out of the room. And you'd try to ruin my life. But you're not doing that, see? You're _still_ sitting next to me, you're _still_ talking and smiling with me, and we're both still here, on this balcony, staring up at the sky._

_Do you like the sky, Cho?_

Her sweet smile was so priceless, so genuine, that he'd never forgotten it. Even when he was angriest with her, that smile had brought him into the world of dreams, it had brought him warm, fuzzy feelings (which he secretly hated and secretly enjoyed, missed, even), it brought him peace in the night, when it was dark and all seemed lost.

_Yes, I do. Very much._

_Why?_

She was silent for so long. Had he offended her in some way, by this question? Was it _possible_ to offend someone with so vague a question to begin with?

_I just do. When I look at the sky, be it day or night, I feel like I'm flying. Like I'm up there, somewhere, and I can see everyone else. I can see everything. I soar through the clouds, and shine like the sun, the moon, and the stars, and no one can stop me. I'm free. And sometimes, I look up at the sky and sense someone watching me. Watching over me. Always. Looking out for me, caring for me, and it's just a comfort to know that there will always be something there. The sky is always there, Draco. Even when my family's not there, when _you're_ not there, it'll be there. It'll be there when _I'm _not here, anymore. It'll still be here, forever and ever, until the end of the world, for generations of dreamers to come. Dreamers like me. Lovers like us, who will look up at it and talk about things like this. And other things, too. People who will come to understand each other, and love each other completely, under the influence of this great canvas of colours, blues, whites, blacks, violets, oranges, yellows. The sky is beautiful. The sky is _beauty,_ and the sky is love. The sky is memory. The sky is everything, Draco. It's everything to me, and I love it, I will always love it._

Cho wrapped her arms around him, leaned into him as the breeze blew their hair to mingle with the lights of the inky night sky. It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. Somehow, she had such an intimate connection to everything, she understood everything, and most importantly, she understood herself. It was something he didn't possess. He had never been attuned to himself. He was so used to denying, it was second nature to him. He was alone. Cho was alone, but somehow, she wasn't. Everything was a part of her.

It was something he would never have.

_Do you like the sky, Draco?_

He smiled softly, breathing in the jasmine scent of her hair and skin.

_I'll answer that question on one condition._

_What condition is that?_

_You don't ask me why._

Cho laughed gaily, and squeezed him a bit.

_Why the hell not? _You_ asked me why!_

_I'm afraid I won't be able to express myself as eloquently as you have._

Cho was silent. She understood, and she nodded her assent. Draco took a deep breath of the fresh night air.

_I do. I love the sky. I can't find the words to explain it, but I can feel it, deep in my heart._

They were quiet then, letting no more words pass between them. They stole occasional glances at each other, small smiles and precious nothings, until Cho tightened her hold on him further, and he finally stopped resisting the urge to kiss her.

--------------------

She was immensely pleased that he'd agreed to have dinner with her. Cho was sprawled on a massage table, relaxing and winding down as the masseuse worked the tension and anxiety out of her exhausted muscles.

_This is awful nice. Has Draco had this done?_

What _was_ Draco doing now, anyway? Cho grinned somewhat sadly. He was either swimming, tanning, or staring in the mirror and thinking of ways to make her feel guilty about what she did to him. Honestly, he didn't have to. She already felt guilty enough. More than guilty enough. She let a long, melancholy sigh out from her heart.

_Narcissist._

Some people would never change.

_You might be my significant other, but my relationship with reflective surfaces is, quite frankly, none of your business._

She resisted the urge to laugh out loud. She remembered that! God, it seemed so long ago sometimes, but she still remembered it. She'd laughed then, too. It was the truth. Nothing she did or said could ever part him from reflective surfaces. He subconsciously stared at them when he walked past any, and Cho had pointed this out to him one day.

_You don't have to look in the mirror, Draco._

_I don't?_

She shook her head.

_Nope._

He smirked slyly and gave her an artful glance.

_And why don't I have to look in mirrors, Cho?_

She sighed wearily then. She had, after all, asked for it.

_I dunno, Draco. They might crack._

HA! She'd managed to find a way to say it without further inflating his immense, overflowing ego.

_Ouuuuuch, Chang. Ouuuuuuuuuuch. Low blow! Low blow!_

They kept tallies of the low blows they took on each other. So far, Draco's count was, surprisingly, at seventeen. Cho's was already at thirty-five.

_I just can't seem to keep up with you, sweet._

_No, you can't, laddie. I am unrivaled at low blows._

_Evidently. But really, Cho, tell me the truth._

_The truth about what?_

Draco rolled his eyes and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

_The truth about me and mirrors! About why I don't have to look at them._

Cho laughed loudly, brushing her hair behind her ears and turning to face him, trying to look serious.

_But I _told_ you the truth, Draco._

_No, you didn't!_

_Oh really? And how do you know I didn't? Have you got some fancy contraption in there, like a Sneakoscope or something?_

_No, I don't. Somehow, I can just feel that you're lying to me._

Cho did her best to look insulted. Offended. Appalled.

_I am _not!

_Yes you _are!

_I _so_ am not!_

_Admit it, Chang!_

_I'm _no—_oh, fine, fine, I am. I am lying to you, Draco. I actually meant to say that you already look so good, you could probably manage for the next ten years without a bloody mirror. There. Satisfied?_

Draco beamed innocently at her.

_Quite. But you know, sweet, I could say the same for you._

_The same about what for me?_

Draco groaned and threw his head back.

_About you and the mirror, silly!_

_So what about me and the mirror?_

_Nothing. You don't need one. You're prettier than me, you're sure to manage perfectly well without one._

_Why, thank you, Draco, it's awful nice of you to admit that there is indeed someone prettier than yourself. That is very, very, _very_ humble of you, dear. I am _so, so_ proud. My little baby is finally growing up! Humility! I never thought I'd see the day._

Draco shuffled his feet and stared at the ground.

_Aww, shut up, silly._

_Draco, you're so cute._

_Thanks, Cho. I quite think so as well._

Cho scoffed at him, and jabbed him in good humour.

_Nancy boy._

_Socialite._

_Narcissist._

_Geek._

_Brat._

_Prima donna!_

_PERVERT!_

Draco reacted a bit to that one. Cho supposed it took him by surprise.

_Heeeeeey, I _may_ be a bit of a pervert, but what have I done to you to merit that accusation?_

Cho shrugged.

_Absolutely nothing._

Draco laughed in triumph, and his eyes glinted with good cheer and a laugh.

_Ha! So you are throwing false accusations around, too, eh, Chang, you bloody _liar!

_Shut up and walk, Draco._

And he did. Shut up and walk.

Such a long, long time ago. But it was as though it were only yesterday.

Cho glanced up at the ornate clock hanging on one of the hut's beams. Five o'clock. Little more than two hours to go until they would meet. She dropped off to sleep, letting the masseuse's hands run across her back.

--------------------

_Author's Note:_ I know the flashback parts were kind of confusing. Hmm. They usually go alternate, I guess. Easiest way to tell which is which. YAY! I actually wrote a chapter. FINALLY. Hurrah for me! Review, willya? And if you have the time (and/or the patience) for Harry/Hermione romance, go hunt Anathema Amaranthine and read "Heaven." She's on FF.n. (Did I just rhyme?) Tell me what you think. I've been away from this so long, I'm worried I've lost the hang of it. They were already out of character to begin with, now, they might actually be _intolerable_.


	9. Catharsis

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer: _Well. _Must_ you ask? Draco Malfoy belongs to me. YES, he does, DEAL WITH IT. Well, at least he does until JKR comes running after me with a torch. Because she owns him. She owns Cho, too. She owns everything associated with Harry, actually. Isn't that AMAZING?  
_Author's Note: _I kinda promised myself that I'd have this chapter up on or before my third anniversary as a FanFiction.Net member, which happens to be on, 26 March 2003. Three days or so from now. So, Advanced Happy Third Anniversary, me! Hahaha! It's not over yet, no. But it will be. Soon. YES! Then I can move on and do other things! HURRAH! As I write this, it is actually just the thirteenth of March. So I have another thirteen days to finish this. I'll try to make it a bit longer than the previous chapters. I dunno. The chapters just seemed so short. Anyway.

__

For him. The Renga Boy. *grin*

--------------------

He would have liked to convince himself that he wasn't nervous. Not in the least bit. It just wasn't possible. People like _him_ didn't get nervous. But the oh-so-overused _Butterflies in the Stomach_ took this opportunity to attack and prove him wrong. He, being the sole heir to the Malfoy legacy, was dressed to kill. Yeah. Draco Malfoy the lady-killer. He smiled mirthlessly. She was going to regret ever letting him go.

_God, Draco, have you realised that you're beginning to sound like one of those spurned females in romance novels?_ The thought crossed his mind and left him quite disturbed. He was acting like a juvenile, bitter ex-lover. Which he was, of course. Bitter. He knew he was bitter. He turned his head slightly to his right, having suddenly noticed that he was walking parallel to the ocean and _was, _after all, missing an incredible view. Besides, it'd give him something else to think about. He was getting sick of being bitter all the time.

Normally, the sun would set earlier in the Philippines. On some days, it was gone by five thirty. This was not the case, however. The _Bitter, Jealous Ex-Lover_ glint in his eyes faded to make way for his awe. There were no sunsets like sunsets on Boracay, where the great golden orb that was their planet's primary source of light gently dipped into the deep, deep blue of the ocean. Where gold became red and the sky was no longer blue, but countless shades of oranges, violets, pinks, and yellows. Where the water, in some parts, were the darkest cobalt, and in others, the finest sparkling white wine.

It was so easy to fall asleep here, where the sounds of the waves crashing on the powdery white shore would lull you into dreamless slumber. Whether you liked it or not. Draco sighed listlessly as he trudged up to the Seaside Grill. The smell of good, blessedly exotic food wafted to meet him. He checked his watch in an absentminded manner, noting with some amusement that he was actually _early._ Well, wasn't _that_ a great feat? A _Malfoy,_ _not_ fashionably late? This was definitely one for the books. He grinned faintly, but the smile left his face when he saw what (or _who_) was in front of him.

A pair of nearly-obsidian eyes met his as he looked up. He knew who those eyes belonged to. Those eyes went with the long, raven hair and the smooth, pale skin. Those eyes went with the brilliant smile and the musical laugh. Those eyes went with Cho Chang, who was standing by the entrance to the open-air edifice. She smiled at him. He, of course, would not return the favor. Draco noticed, however, that Cho looked quite _relieved._ Relieved that he actually _came,_ perhaps? He shrugged it off and climbed the few steps to the porch.

"Merlin, Draco, somehow, I just can't believe you actually came," she said to him, with a sweet, sincere smile. Why was she acting like _nothing_ was wrong? _He_ was fully aware that _everything_ was wrong. Were women just _completely_ adept at denial?

He shot her an irritated glance. "Of course I came. I promised. We're Malfoys. We don't _break_ promises," he hissed scathingly. Cho recoiled sharply. Draco knew it'd be a blow to her integrity. Ah, wasn't he _bitter?_ He remembered that pact they made, seated by the window in that room where they had their first conversation. A pact involving some words like _love,_ and _forever,_ as he recalled. A pact that involved a goblet of the best wine the Malfoy Manor had in storage and several drops of blood.

The pact she had broken. And she remembered this, too. He could see it in her face.

"Yeah, Draco, I guess you don't," she said softly, somewhat sadly. "In any case, I really _am_ glad you came." She offered him another smile, took his hand, and led him into the restaurant. He wanted to pull back from the contact. It was like a burn, a single touch kicked his panic sensors into full gear. But he resisted, and let her take him where she wanted.

Draco shook his head as he walked. He wanted answers, not pretenses.

--------------------

She had been so glad to see him walking on the sand towards her. Some part of her just couldn't believe that he'd actually be there, and early, at that. Some part of her had been excited as she saw his familiar frame, his familiar face, and those ice grey eyes. _Just that now, they're_ really_ ice. There's no warmth left in them. Not for me._

Cho had entertained a few anxieties earlier on, like whether he'd bolt and run away as fast as he could at the sight of her, but when he sat down at the table, she finally believed that it was actually happening. They were actually having a rational discussion. It was something they should have done a long, long time ago.

"But _why_, Cho? _Why_ did you do it?" Draco stressed sharply, his brow furrowing. He rested his elbows on the wooden table, leaning forward to get a better look at her. Cho shied away from his penetrating glance. She was, in all senses of the word, _frightened._ She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to answer. But she _had_ to answer. He _had_ to understand.

Cho lifted her head uneasily and met his gaze with her own. "I'll start from the beginning, Draco. But you have to promise me you won't interrupt until I finish. _Then_ you can ask all the questions you want," she said decisively, burying her discomfiture. Draco nodded his agreement.

She took a deep breath, and she began.

"Mandy Brocklehurst and I made this deal before the night in that room on the third floor. I was still bitter over Cedric's death then, and _angry…_"

--------------------

I was just so confused. Sometimes, I felt like curling up somewhere and crying. Sometimes, I felt like punching something, anything, anyone. And on some days, I was especially vindictive, which was the mood Mandy found me in the day we made our bet. We were alone in the Ravenclaw common room. I was seated on one of the plush couches there, staring darkly at the fire and wishing that it would just burn me up. Take me out of my misery.

_Life was so different without my boyfriend in it. We were a duo. We did everything together. But Cedric wasn't _just _my boyfriend, Draco. He was my _best friend._ I told him _everything_. And he understood me. Whenever I was feeling lost, or alone, I'd run straight to him, and he'd _always_ have something encouraging to say. He'd _always _be that shoulder for me to lean on. And he was loyal to me. There was no one else for him but _me_, and that was something I needed so much._

My mother spent many years of my life pretty much ignoring me. Yes, she's better now, and she genuinely cares for me, but for the first fifteen years of my life, she just wasn't there. My father was always busy, working, and most of the time, out of the country. My mother wouldn't speak to me. It was just occasional passing remarks. She spent most of her time dwelling on her missing family. Something I've picked up through the years, after she gave it up and finally realised that the family she had now was all she needed.

_I grew up alone, in a big, empty house, with servants who didn't care, and a mother who couldn't care less. I craved attention, but I couldn't get it in our home. I was so happy to be going to Hogwarts. I promised myself that I'd _never_ let myself be alone there. I promised myself that I'd have friends, and people who cared about me. I swore I'd be the belle of the ball, the one in the middle of _everything_. I'd be _loved.

Hogwarts was almost everything I wanted. I had friends, I had a good spot in the social hierarchy, and I was a success. But I didn't have the one thing I needed most. A person to confide in. I had all these feelings still bottled up in me, despite my happiness at school. I was still resentful.

_That room you were in, Draco. That room, on the third floor, that night. That room had always been _our _room. _Our _secret rendezvous. Do you wonder why it's so unused? It only appears to people in need of solace. I went in there one night, looking for a place to be alone, and what did I find in that room? I saw Cedric Diggory. Much like I found you, but in a less precarious condition._

He was seated on that windowsill, the moon shining on him. He was staring out into the Forbidden Forest, and the lake. He heard me.

Cedric was tired, Draco. Of all the pressure his father put on him to be the best, to be someone exceptional. He was tired of his father's disappointment. First, he'd been sorted into Hufflepuff, not Gryffindor, as his father wanted. He'd been redeemed by his position in the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, but for Amos Diggory, that really wasn't enough.

_Cedric put up a good face for everyone else, but I saw him in his reality in that room. And he saw _me,_ in _my _reality, in that room, as well. We talked out our problems with each other. We became friends. We became confidantes, and eventually, we fell in love._

_Our relationship was more than silly kisses in the Astronomy Tower, though we _did _have those. Our relationship was _trust _and real, genuine love. I knew I could tell him _anything,_ and he would _never _hate me for it._

_To lose t_hat _was akin to losing my arms and my legs. To lose t_hat _was to lose my sight and my voice and my hearing. To lose that was to lose my _soul. _I couldn't bear it._

Grieving didn't help. Crying only made me feel worse; it made me feel pathetic.

I took the last alternative. Hate and anger.

This was what my bet was all about. Mandy Brocklehurst, you don't know her, Draco. She seems nice enough, but she's clever and cunning. She thought I'd lost my edge, and wanted to take my spot on the hierarchy. If it hadn't been me up there on the social ladder, Draco, it would have been her. And she hated me for that.

_I, wanting to prove that I wasn't changed, that, in fact, I was better than before, made a deal with Mandy Brocklehurst. She dared me to charm _anyone _into loving me completely. Then, when this was complete, to break his heart. I, feeling the need to make someone else hurt like I was hurting, agreed. We bet on my locket. Do you remember that locket? That glittering piece of white gold and crystal? It was a present from Cedric. I loved that thing more than anything else. It was the last tangible symbol of his undying love for me. I was arrogant. I agreed to wager my most prized possession._

_And to keep that possession, I had to break _your _heart._

I'm sorry, Draco. It just happened. Of all the unfortunate circumstances. Unluckily enough, two days later, I found you in our sanctum. It pained me to see you hurting. I tried to call off the bet with Mandy Brocklehurst, but she refused. I had to go through with it. I tried to shove the guilt from my mind and just go through with the deal. I had to be cold and heartless. And now, I had the perfect way to get into you.

_But I found something I didn't expect, Draco. I found someone who replaced Cedric in my heart. Of course, he'd always be there, but now, there was something else that gave me hope. There was someone else who would listen to me, someone else who would comfort me when I was crying, someone else who needed me as well. There was _you._ You were different from Cedric. Colder, more distant, but you were the same thing._

_My deal with Mandy Brocklehurst would last until Yule. She was kind enough to..._remind _me of my deadline on the day before the Ball. I tried desperately to find a way out, but she wouldn't allow it._

I think, secretly, she'd always liked Cedric herself.

I couldn't give up my necklace, Draco. I couldn't give up that last part of Cedric that was still in my hands. So I gave you up instead.

I cried for days. I locked myself up in my room. I had my own since I was a prefect. I wouldn't sleep, I wouldn't eat. I would just cry. And cry. And cry. First, I lost Cedric. Now, I lost you.

After about six days of trying to kill myself, I left my room. All of Ravenclaw House was assembled outside my room, waiting anxiously for me, and I came out, looking like a wreck, with that pendant in my hands. I threw it into the fire. I cried in front of them, Draco. In my greatest moment of weakness, they all saw me. I tried to slash myself, Draco. But they stopped me. They saw the other gashes on my wrists. They saw how pale I was. They saw how much harder it was getting for me to breathe. They know about my condition, Draco. I have fainting spells, and sometimes, I won't wake for days. After Quidditch matches, I can't breathe. But it didn't matter to me.

_What _mattered _to me was that I hurt you. And I wanted to hurt myself, the way you used to. I wanted to know how it felt. Why you did it. And I understood your therapy of pain._

_God, Draco, I threw that locket into the fire. That locket with the picture of Cedric and I, and the engraving that said _You and Me Forever._ I hurt you to save it. I hurt you to save that one memory of our tragic, Shakespearean romance._

I lost it anyway, Draco. I gave you up to save that one trinket, and I destroyed it in the end, anyway.

I lost you both.

_I lost you. I lost Cedric. I lost _everything_._

I wanted so badly to fix things with you, but I didn't know how. I wrote you countless letters, which I never sent. I still do so now, Draco. The letter you received via my cousin Alex's owl was one of those letters. They were never meant to be given to you. That was a mistake. Over the years, you've become some sort of diary for me. I wanted so badly to send them, but I knew you'd never forgive me. I'd never told you my reasons for what I did. I couldn't. I didn't think you would understand. I don't think you understand.

I guess they worked, somehow. You're there, see, in front of me, listening to the sad, pathetic tragedy that is my life, and you probably still hate me.

I guess you deserve to hate me, Draco. I accomplished my mission. I made someone else hurt like I did. And I'm sorry.

--------------------

Draco was rendered speechless. He was still _angry,_ of course. There was no possible way he _couldn't_ be, but much to his ire, he _understood_ Cho's desperation. And now that he'd heard everything, he didn't know what to do. Part of him forgave her. Most of him understood her. But some parts of him were still bitter. So _bitter_.

He didn't know what to do. His face was blank and unreadable as he stood from the table and left. He turned away from her, hearing her collapse onto the empty table, sobbing hopelessly and violently. She must have thought that she had failed in making him understand.

But she hadn't.

He understood her completely now. And he was at a loss as to what to do.

Draco sank to the sand, leaning weakly against a sturdy palm by the sea. He wanted to forgive her. The anguish was obvious on her face as she told him her story. He had wanted, against his will, to take her into his arms and comfort her. He wanted everything to be okay again.

But the more rational part of him rebelled. If she could do this to him once, couldn't she do it to him again? She had broken his trust. Even _Draco_ knew that trust was the most important part of a relationship. How could he love her again if he didn't trust her?

He didn't know what to _do_ anymore.

Was Cho still in the restaurant? Was she still crying? Why did he even want to _know?_ What could he _do?_

Nothing. You can't do anything. 

--------------------

She'd failed. She had him in front of her, and she _failed._ A failure. She was a _failure._ She had her chance to make him take her back, to make him love her again, and she _failed._

_I've really lost everything now,_ she thought dejectedly, staring out the railings to the sea. She thought she could see Draco's white gold hair, his tall figure, slumped against a tree.

Maybe she was hallucinating.

_Maybe I can still do something, anything. I can't give up. I don't have enough _time_ to stop trying now._

She left the table and ran as best as she could out the doorway. They would charge their meal to her suite. She had to chase him. The cold wind, smelling like the sea, whipped through her ebony hair. It stung her eyes slightly as she ran against it, but she didn't have to go a long way. Draco hadn't gone very far.

"Draco!" she gasped, out of breath already. She collapsed onto her knees and steadied herself with her hands on the sand. She was weakened with the short run, already exhausted. Tears streaked from her eyes and fell onto the powdery floor. "Draco, I'm sorry," she said, distraught with emotion. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she cried, expending what energy she had left to fling her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder as she'd done so many times, so many years ago, holding on to him for dear life.

She could felt his sharp intake of breath as she touched him. He was shocked, but he melted into her embrace. She could feel his heartbeat.

It was just like before.

Just like before.

She felt his arms wrap around her frail frame, she could feel him holding her like she was something precious.

This was it. This was what she'd wanted so badly, for so long. This was what she needed. Draco broke their embrace slightly, and turned her face up to meet his. There was a fire in his silver eyes that was so familiar, so familiar, so familiar. He cut off whatever she was about to say as he pressed his lips to hers in a deep kiss.

Everything was right. She could still feel the warm, salty tears flowing down her cheeks, the sound of the breeze rustling the branches and the waves crashing on the shore. Somehow, she could feel the stars and the moon shining down on her.

She could feel Draco's heartbeat. She could feel his tears mingling with hers.

Everything was right. Just like before.

Finally.

__

Finally.

--------------------

_Author's Note:_ The next chapter _might_ (note: MIGHT) be the last one, if I don't feel like rambling on. I actually want to end it as soon as possible, but somehow, I don't think I've given this story enough substance to _end _it just yet. What do you think? Review, okay? Ü WOW, it's actually almost my third year as a FanFiction.net member! I'm so HAPPY! Hahaha! ADVANCED HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, ME! It'll be my report card day, too, you know? I really, really hope I didn't get low grades! Hahaha! PRAY FOR ME, aiight? (Gosh, why am I so CHEERFUL? Maybe because I finally finished another chapter?)

Hmm. I think I find the last parts kind of abrupt. Will fix when I figure out how. Do you know that it's actually only the twenty-second of March? I finished this three days early. So I'm giving in and posting it early. Hey, Draco seems to have overlooked the fact that Cho has a 'condition.' What condition is this? *evil grin* Well, I'm not telling _yet._ And Cho never really told him. But Cedric knew! And Cho's quite aware of it. So is Ravenclaw House. I'm glad that I got this chapter to be longer than most of the others. Ah, well, long chapter, long Author's Note! YOU HAVE TO TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! :D REVIEW!

Oh, and if you're the one hundredth reviewer, tell me in the review. :D Next chapter goes out to you! (It rhymes!)


	10. Solitude

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer: _Draco? Well he belongs to ME, of course! Who else could POSSIBLY own the dear boy? Haha. Riiiiight. No, seriously, we're just working out the papers, JK Rowling and I, but once that's over and done with, he will be MY property! Haha. For now, he belongs to none other than Joanne Kathleen Rowling. He and all his Hogwarts friends. Really, if she isn't planning to do anything good with him, anyway, give him to ME. I'll make him more than just some pest.  
_Author's Note:_ Well, well. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! Rather, it is the first half of the last chapter. J Actually, it is the second to the last chapter. But what have you? Very short. Just to…I dunno. Make sure you guys are still READING this? I actually had this written out MONTHS ago. I just lost my passion for the story, I guess.

For Jasini, Lucky Number One-Hundred! You rock, girl! Haha! But also, for all the lovely reviewers I've had through the nine previous chapters of this story, and those who will be kind enough to review chapter ten. Thank you for all your support these past few months!

--------------------

He ran his fingers delicately over the cool marble banisters of the dramatic double staircase, not hearing his footfalls as he ascended, for they were cushioned by the finest deep-red carpeting that Galleons could buy, cascading down the steps. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that he loved Maison Malfoy, the Malfoy Manor. A diminutive smile lit his face. Yes, the Manor _was _quite beautiful, when the curtains were open. And they were open more often nowadays, as he, having grown used to the endless sun of Spain, Italy, and the Pacific, could no longer move around the manor without colliding with some priceless, irreplaceable piece of china or the other. The whole household had to learn to adjust to Draco's aversion to the dark in the end, if Lucius and Narcissa wanted to have any antique artifacts left by the time their darling son and gorgeous only child was to inherit them. _Smirk, smirk. Ah, the luxurious, bratty life I live._

Maison Malfoy was _vast._ There really could be no other word to describe it. It was a grand, ancient edifice that had been passed down through each generation of the Malfoy family. His sharp grey eyes (something that had been handed down to him, too) blinked once and took in the whole interior of the Ballroom, which was on the other side of the stairwell and the corridor. From the Russian crystal chandeliers (he was guessing the Swarovski chap was Russian, but he _could_ be wrong. Yes, being wrong _was_ a possibility. Wasn't Swarovski jewelry? Beads and stuff? The silly stuff they sewed onto gowns? Yes, he was most definitely wrong. Then again, he never _thought_ for a _moment_ that the chandeliers were Swarovski! No, he did not!) to the exquisite marble, alabaster, and granite floor. This would all someday be his. Whatever whimsical feelings he had been entertaining vanished immediately. Sometimes, he thought it was too large a home for a small family of three. Well, of course they had servants, but didn't _everybody_?

And when my parents pass away, I'll be all alone here.

He couldn't imagine it. Walking through the many hallways, peering into the dozens of empty rooms. This was a home made for at least a dozen people. Eventually, it would belong to only one. Him.

Can I handle the solitude?

The staircase split into two halves. Without thinking, he veered to the right and continued climbing. The right staircase led to his chambers. The left one led to his parents' rooms. There was a small balcony-like corridor that separated the two staircases and looked over the ballroom. He faintly remembered peering through the marble railings of the balcony, hearing soaring music and melodic laughter wafting up from the polished floor. He had been too young to attend his parents' parties back then, but the time came when he was one of the fashionably dressed people making their way across the room, stopping every once in a while to make conversation. What had it all been _for?_ He hadn't made any lasting relationships in all those years of idle chit chat and small talk. All he'd ever been at these affairs was completely, utterly drunk.

He knew it then. He was tired.

It was stupid to be tired, as he had just returned several weeks ago from an incredible vacation that took him all over the world. (Yes, Europe and Asia _were_ the world, to him, at least.)

But he _was_ tired. And he didn't know why. He didn't know if it could be _called_ being tired. Physically, he had never felt better. What was he, then?

Weary?

He frowned darkly. _Draco, if you're feeling weary after all that, then you've failed and you're back to where you started from._

Yes, he was weary. And she had exhausted him.

_So we're back to calling her _she_ again, eh? _he thought sardonically. He viciously twisted the delicately etched doorknob and stomped into his room.

"Ah, owlpost," he said softly, noticing the fresh batch of letters that had been placed on top of the ignored pile. There were easily more than thirty in the pile.

And they were all from the same person. Needless to say, they remained unopened. Earlier on, she—Cho—she sent a letter once or twice every week. He'd opened the first one she sent, just to see what she had to say, and _why_ she was writing after he told her never to contact him again. _Delusions, all of them. All her delusions._

Her letters were more frequent now, almost four every week. He knew she was getting desperate. And he wasn't going to give in.

He laid back on his chaise lounge. _I love her. I know that,_ he told himself,_ but I can't—won't—last in a relationship where I'll always be thinking whether or not she's being real._

He couldn't handle that. He _could_ take the solitude of Maison Malfoy's empty halls. But he could never live in doubt. He thought she understood that.

--------------------

Her letters were beginning to come in at an alarming rate. Three or four a day was the minimum. His owlpost inbox was piling up with parchment that had her writing frantically scrawled on the front. Draco didn't care. He let Cho's letters stack up higher and higher, trying to stifle a very unbecoming curiosity about how many letters she'd send the next day. He was vicious and heartless. And the letters kept coming in.

Until they stopped.

Draco was ashamed of his awareness that there was an itching, irritating feeling inside him. He _wondered._

--------------------

_Author's Note:_ I'm really, really sorry for how bad my writing's become and how LONG this has taken. I'm working on the last part already. Really. I'm stuck in one hell of a psychological mess at the moment, so I might end up revising this chapter later on, when I'm more into it. J 


	11. However Far Away

**COME AROUND**  
_Disclaimer: _It sucks to have to admit it, but Draco Malfoy does not belong to me. JK Rowling, baby, we all know that!  
_Author's Note:_ I am at the end. I'm sorry for the long wait. Things have gone on, you know. But the time it's taken to produce this is just unforgivable, and I apologize. In fact, I highly doubt anyone's reading this, so there's no need for apologies, now, right? I feel like I owe you all an explanation, but I guess it'll suffice to say that I just...lost it. I'm sorry for the long wait. Really. I'm sorry for the bad writing, too. I've been on hiatus for almost a year.

For Cam, my soul sister. You are stellar. I wish you were still with us, but where you are must be a better place. I love you.

--------------------

She was beautiful in her pristine white dress. Serene, elegant, ethereal, a sight to behold. He blinked back the tears that were beginning to cloud his eyesight. A reassuring hand grasped his as the gap between them was slowly ebbing. It was his father's hand. He looked at the intertwined palms, and then into his father's own gray eyes, and nodded in appreciation. It was probably the most encouragement he'd ever received from Lucius. 

The chamber was illuminated with countless white candles, and lilies decorated the pews. 

This was exactly what she wanted their wedding to be like, and as Draco ran his fingers lightly over her pale, perfect ones, he thought he could feel his heart shattering into an infinite number of pieces. It was irreparable. The damage he'd done to himself, the damage he'd done to her. He would never be able to atone for all of it. The ego, the cruelty, the heartlessness, she would never know how sorry he was. 

Because she was dead. 

And his dress was the last dress she would ever wear. 

The floodgates burst, and Draco could no longer trap the anguished sobs that threatened to consume him. _She was gone._ She had tried to tell him all along that she would be going. She had wanted to spend her last few days with him, and what had he done? Spitefully left her letters unopened. The guilt had been overwhelming. Countless times, he wished he'd let his pride die instead of allowing his love to take its place. 

What was pride now? There was nothing to live for. Cho was _gone. _"We knew it would happen someday, Draco," Cho's mother spoke quietly into his ear, trying to pull him away. He angrily shoved her arm off his own. He didn't want to hear her. He didn't want to hear the truth. He would never be able to fight the truth. 

He'd read it all in the letters. About how Cho had been diagnosed with Blackfan Diamond anemia at birth. About how her blood would never be enough to support her life systems. About how the medication worked, and then failed. They'd even tried Muggle surgery, and it had been a failure. 

Draco looked back on all the times they'd been together. How he'd dismiss how tired she would become after so short a time. He could remember being concerned about her fainting spells, but she'd casually shrugged them off. 

He could wish all he wanted, but nothing would bring her back. 

He could wish that he'd cared more. He could wish that he'd told her how he felt about her. He could wish that he took another chance on her. He could wish for so many things. But nothing would mean anything. No wishes, no regrets, nothing would change the fact that she was no longer with him. 

Nothing would change the fact that he'd completely shut her out when she needed him the most. She died, not knowing how much he'd loved her, without saying goodbye, but that hadn't been her fault. 

No, the fault was his. 

Her pale face glowed in the candlelight. He hated it. He hated the illusion of life. If he kissed her, would she wake? He almost believed she would. Her lips glistened red, her cheeks blushed pink, and she looked so peaceful that he could have believed she was sleeping. 

Yes, she was sleeping. She was only asleep, his Cho. She would get up soon. She would open her eyes, and they would laugh about the joke she'd pulled on him, and he wouldn't even scold her for tricking him into coming back. Because he'd realized how much he loved her and how much he needed her and how sorry he was that he'd treated her so badly. 

And then they would get married and they would have so many beautiful children running around Maison Malfoy. Maybe some would have his gray eyes. Maybe some would have her ebony hair. Her brilliant, loving smile. 

"Wake up, Cho," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "Wake up, please? I've been waiting for you." 

There was nothing. Not the slightest movement. Not the feeblest sound. Nothing. 

"GODDAMNIT, CHO, WAKE UP!" he cried, distressed, and weakly entreating her to come back to life. "Wake up, please wake up, please, I'm sorry, I'll never do it again, please wake up, please, please," he mumbled, nearly incoherent, bent and embracing her lifeless form. "Please Cho, please, for the love of Merlin and Hogwarts and butterbeers and the sky and the stars and the moon and the sea and camellias and jasmine and chocolate and kisses and everything we've ever loved together, please, please, please! I can't live without you." 

They tried, ever so gently, to take him away at that moment, but Lucius convinced them to relent. 

Draco wept for hours. 

-------------------- 

They buried her the next morning. The sun washed everything in golden light, and a mild breeze kept everyone cool. Draco stood at the back, hearing her voice speak to him in his head. 

_When I look at the sky, be it day or night, I feel like I'm flying. Like I'm up there, somewhere, and I can see everyone else. I can see everything. I soar through the clouds, and shine like the sun, the moon, and the stars, and no one can stop me. I'm free. And sometimes, I look up at the sky and sense someone watching me. Watching over me. Always. Looking out for me, caring for me, and it's just a comfort to know that there will always be something there. The sky is always there, Draco. Even when my family's not there, when _you're _not there, it'll be there. It'll be there when _I'm_ not here, anymore. It'll still be here, forever and ever, until the end of the world, for generations of dreamers to come. Dreamers like me. Lovers like us, who will look up at it and talk about things like this. And other things, too. People who will come to understand each other, and love each other completely, under the influence of this great canvas of colours, blues, whites, blacks, violets, oranges, yellows. The sky is beautiful. The sky is _beauty_, and the sky is love. The sky is memory. The sky is everything, Draco. It's everything to me, and I love it, I will always love it._

He placed a single red rose at the foot of her tombstone. And then he looked up at the sky. He knew that he would always love her. It would never really heal. She was too much a part of him for the pain to go away. But they would always be together in dreams. He smiled. 

And later that night, he joined her in his slumber. 

--------------------

_Author's Note:_ I'm sure nobody liked the way it ended. But this was how it had been planned from the start. Look, I even did my research on the disease! Hahaha. Well. Tell me what you think, alright? I guess now's the time to say thank you to everyone. THANK YOU. You have no idea how fulfilling writing this has been, because of you guys. Even if I hate the pairing. Still do, by the way. Eleven chapters couldn't change that. But I love you all. Thank you. :)


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